In the Beginning
by animime
Summary: Arthur's voyage and stay in the New World. He comes across a very interesting man and is pulled into a whole different way of life; Includes Native!America and Native!Alfred and Matthew! USUK
1. Voyage

"Captain, our men are low on food. The last storm took the last of the grain..."

"What about my scones?"

"I'm afraid those are gone too, sir."

The captain sat back against his chair and scowled. "Those were my favourite too." He sighed. "No matter; stay on course. His Majesty ordered us to find the gold that Spain found on the New World and deliver it back to Britain, therefore, we shall do it. Understood?"

"Yes, Captain," the sailor saluted and hurried to the deck to deliver new orders.

Tossing his compass from one hand to the other, the captain lifted himself from his desk and walked to the map hanging on the wall. The Age of Discovery was raging and Europe was determined to gain more power. Of course, this map wasn't exactly accurate; there were parts of the New World that haven't been explored, let alone discovered.

"Bloody Spain... taking all the gold he wants. Ha, well surely where my king and I chose to colonize, there will be vast amounts of gold... buried beneath the land..." The captain continued to mumble to himself, scratching the golden compass with his index finger. "Great Britain will become the biggest empire the world has ever known. I'll kick that frog's ass out of life, conquer most of Asia, own the The World, and Bob's your uncle~!" He grinned and scribbled out France on the map with his pen. "Good riddance, bloody French."

Turning around on his heel, he swiftly walked to his cabin door and up the stairs. The sun was beginning to set in the horizon ahead, and the waters were rocking the ship at a slight angle. Strolling to the bow, he twirled his sword –that was resting to his side hip –with a finger. It was specially used to stab France when he got too close, but before, it was his –the British Empire's – pirate sword. Sadly, his teenage youth of pirating was mostly over, and now exploring was the key to success.

"Oi, you there! The strange red-head with the trousers falling halfway down his bottom," he called to the sailor tying the mast into cruising position for night.

He looked up from his work and jumped at the sight of his captain. "C-captain Kirkland, sir. How are you this fine evening?" His hand gripped the rope tightly, trying to salute with the other.

"Very well, thank you," the captain nodded. "I presume the crew is prepared to land soon. According to the birds that are casually drifting by, land must be near..." He paused and looked up at the mast. "Oh pish posh; don't loosen the sails, you daft!" He took the rope from the ginger and pulled it with no effort at all to the loop. "If we're by land, we want to get there quickly."

The ship jerked forward with the sudden gust of wind and sent the men working to the the ground. The captain stayed firmly in place, not moving an inch by the speed of the mighty boat.

"_Arthur!_" A loud voice called from the secondary cabin. Arthur looked back to the sailor and politely smiled.

"If you'll excuse me." He tipped his hat and walked to the stairway leading downstairs, leaving a very baffled youth behind.

Arthur Kirkland opened the door beside his quarters. "Yes, Governor?" His eyes flickered solemnly to the elder looking man before him.

"What was that? I nearly spilt my tea all over His Majesty's letter!" He set his cup down on his desk and lightly picked up a paper signed with the Royal Seal. "You didn't tell me the king sent the letter to _you_." He waved the address in front of the captain's face.

Arthur took the letter and neatly smoothed it out.

_For England of Great Britain._

Only addressing Arthur would the king be so casual. The messy blond scanned the first couple words and scowled. "What is this rubbish? I thought we were just gathering gold and getting the lands ready for colonization. He's saying that we're going to have to get rid of the natives? What happened to just pushing them further West?" He set down the paper and pulled a chair from the wall to the front of the Governor's desk.

The man was staring out the window, back to the nation and fiddling with a dart in his hands. "It doesn't seem to matter what we do with the natives. Make peace, make them run, sell them, kill them; what purpose should they give us anyway? Just a bunch of savages."

Arthur bore green eyes into the back of his current boss's head. "I do want to become the world's greatest power, but it doesn't necessarily mean to murder the New World's people. We don't know anything about the land, its people, its properties." He stood up from his chair, hands on the table. "Why not teach them the way of civilization? Teach them not to be savages –"

"Do you think they'll listen to us? To you? Please, England, you'll be wasting your time," the governor snorted, turning back around and throwing the dart at the wall directly behind the blond's head. "Just listen to your orders and do what you're told."

England stared at his boss and debated whether to punch him out the window and leave him to drown or not. But he figured that it would leave a giant, gaping hole in the stern and that would end badly. He dug his nails easily into the wooden polished desk in front of him and swallowed the lump forming in his throat. "Yes, _sir_."

There was an awkward silence between the both of them and a fight of green eyes versus a dull hazel. If a voice hadn't rang through the ship, there would be two dried out, pairs of eyes.

"Land, ho!"

Arthur's eyes flickered upward and he twirled on his toe, ignoring the man before him, and ran out the door. The deck was wild with working men, tying down the mass and gathering supplies. The captain ran along the edge of the ship, staring ahead at the mass of land in front of him. The long, white beaches with forests and mountains and land. So. Much. Land.

It was nightfall by the time the ship reached a safe docking point on the bay's shallow ends of the Atlantic. Anchor was drawn and tossed off the bow and lanterns were lit around the ship. The nation still hadn't looked away from the great land that lay all around them. Sailors sat down and ate what was left of the food supply, leaving the governor worried that there would be no edible food on this land.

Finally tearing his gaze away, Arthur walked into his quarters, shutting the door behind him and listening to the click of the lock. Sliding his heavy coat off, he tossed it over the head of his chair and set his sword gently down on the desk. The boots were thrown into a corner and a loose, white shirt was unbuttoned and laid on the foot of the bed. Arthur rubbed his hungry stomach and fell onto the bed, too tired to remove his trousers and change into his nightgown. Mumbling incoherent words into his pillow, he threw the blankets over his body and waited for the New World's night dreams to take him.

He awoke to a banging on his door. Slowly, he opened his eyes only to close them again with a blinding sun blaring through the windows. Pushing off the blankets and sleepiness from his body, he put on new trousers and boots, wrapping the sword loop around his waist and leaving behind his heavy Captain coat.

"I'm up. What is it?" He leaned against the door and rested his head on the frame.

"The governor would like to see you. We're prepared to exit the boat, sir," the voice replied. "We'll be gathering wood to make camp..." There was a quiet pause. "What shall we do if any savages approach?"

The nation frowned on the word. _Savages._ "Take it into defense," he finally said. "Don't attack unless they do."

"The governor said to shoot them."

Arthur opened the door to stare at the red-headed sailor. "Then why did you ask me, you git?" He slid by the boy and proceeded to walk up the stairs, holding a straight face when sunlight hit his eyes in an unfamiliar angle.

The ginger followed suit, running up to catch up with the blond leader. "You're the captain on this voyage, sir. It's your rules."

The Brit slowed to a stop and turned around. "What is your name, sailor? Where in Europe do you hail from?"

The young man removed his cap and smiled. "My name is Conner, sir. Conner Bisswal. I'm from a large family on the Eastern coast of Ireland." His face turned red as the captain continued to stare at him, studying his features.

"Hmm," Arthur murmured and nodded. "Shame... it would have been nice if you were one of mine..." He said quietly, walking off to the edge of the ship. "Well, come along then, Conner. We have work to do." He climbed into a row boat and gestured to the oars. "Conner...?"

The Irishman blinked and hurried over, jumping into the small raft. "Aye!" He lowered the two men into the water and rowed to the strange beach that no European had stepped on before. "Look here... the fish swim so close in the shallow water..." Conner rambled on about the surroundings they pulled to shore.

"Arthur," the governor called, walking over. "I can smell the gold already; mountains of it! His Majesty will be so pleased!" Arthur looked at him like he was mental.

"Sir, if you don't mind, I think it would be best if the men built camp first and gathered food supplies. There's no need for you to go arse over tit over something we can get any time now that we're here. Now, as I was informed, you needed something?" Arthur crossed his arms and leaned on one foot, inpatient and wanting to explore.

"Err, yes. Do you have the flag?"

Arthur reached into his satchel and pulled out a neatly folded, clean, Union Flag. "This is personally mine, so if you go so as drop it, I will baste you into the sand, understood, you nob?" He glared at the man as he carefully handed him his flag.

The governor took the flag and quickly walked away, shouting orders to the men to gather wood and build a fort to protect them against "savages."

Arthur sat in the sand for a while, watching the unfamiliar waves crash into the unfamiliar rocks, surrounding the unfamiliar trees. _It's soft... _His hand gently grazed through the white coast as he laid down to stare up at the clear blue sky. _It's not like this in London either... _He watched seagulls as they landed around the ship's sails, investigating the new source of landing space.

His thoughts and daydreams were interrupted by a loud rumble. Arthur sat up and clutched his stomach. "Ugh, bloody hell..." He rolled himself up and looked to the woods. _I suppose a quick look around wouldn't hurt..._ His hand slowly rested on his sword as he walked into the gap between towers of trees.

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	2. New Lands

**Oh my goodness! I have this story up for one day and already I have so many "Story Alerts"! Thank you so much! As a special treat, I decided to upload my second chapter waaaayy earlier than I would regularly publish them. This one is in Alfred's perspective! **

**Alfred's Native American name- Dyami (Eagle). You'll sometimes see him being called "Dyami-Yuma" which "Yuma" is "Son of the Chief"**

**Matthew (Ahmik- meaning "Beaver") is mentioned in this chapter, but won't show up until chapter 4. **

**Native!America is the woman who you see Alfred talk to. Her name is Nuna. You'll often see Alfred and Mattie call her "Gaho" which means "mother". **

**The language that you'll see the Natives speak is an actual language, but don't worry about what it really says; it's not really important to the story line. You'll also see my little "Author Notes" twice in this chapter. They're just there because... well... because... It might help explain something. So please, enjoy Chapter 2!**

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><p>He flew through the forest, jumping through bushes and dodging trees. His breath was quick and low as he slowed his running to a stop, rolling behind a boulder and slipping an arrow from his quiver. "<em>Né-aestömemetàtse,<em>" the dark skinned man spoke quietly as he pulled back on his bow and shot a single arrow into the distant woods.

There was a short yelp before a coyote fell to the ground. The native grinned and flicked back his short, raven hair that always seemed to fall into his face. He crept silently among the shadows of the trees and approached the dead animal. Placing his bow on his back, he pulled out a small knife and began to skin the coyote. "Ê_to'seêvannðòho-aha'enèstove..._" He mumbled to the animal as he began cutting off the meat. "Not that we really need to... I guess I'm kind of nervous..." (Note: He's not speaking English. I'm just to lazy to continue researching Native American languages. He doesn't speak English until he meets Arthur for the second time.) When the skin, fur, and meat were removed from the carcass, the native began pulling out the bones and placing them in his sack one by one. "Thank you, Mister Coyote."

He left nothing of good use behind as he ran back into the deep woods, easily finding his way through the stone paths to his tribe's camp. The tribe that he and his mother had been leading for a century together.

"_Oh bollocks!_" A strange voice rang through the trees and the boy stopped in place, eyes wide and ears listening. He looked around the trees that lined the sky. _Is is a god?... No... I've never been good at communicating with them... Mother says I would eventually... but..._

Crunching of sticks could be heard behind him; he quickly dropped to the ground and slid behind a bush just before an odd looking man came –clumsily – through the forest. The native's dark brown eyes peered through the leaves at the sun-colored hair, the dark eyebrows, eyes the color of morning grass, and skin as pale as the sand... all that made up into this one man.

Just before curiosity struck him, the pale man with a strange voice spoke up again.

"_Oh! Yes! These look like food at least..._" He walked over to a bush that harvested berries, the color of dark violets. The native squinted to watch the man's actions as he took a few berries off the plant. Then it hit him.

Before he knew it, he'd drawn out his bow and arrow and shot quickly toward the bush the odd man was at. The arrow sliced through the plant and the white man fell backwards with a gasp, dropping the berries into the dirt. He looked up and saw the native – crouching in the shadows, weapon out, eyes unblinking – and crawled backward, whipping out his sword before standing up right. "_Damn you!_" He spoke. "_I was hungry, you twit!_"

The dark skinned man stared wonderingly at the shorter other and studied his face, his clothing, and the thin, shiny stick he held in his small hands. Something clicked in the back of his mind, and he reached behind him, toward his bag.

The white man stood behind him, hair a mess and sword pointed in the native's direction; but he remained relatively quiet, and watched the boy pull out a light brown, lumpy... thing. "_What do you have there... Um... Indian...? No.. we're not in India... err... Native?_" He swallowed as the boy stood up, gathering what he pulled out of his bag and stared back at him.

Sucking up whatever confidence he had, the native took a step forward, holding out a potato and a scrap of the coyote meat he had just hunted for. The yellow haired man took a step back, but his gaze drifted down to the food in the others hand.

"_Is this for me...?_" He asked in his strange tongue. The native nodded, not knowing what the man was saying, but simply wanting him to take the food. "_Thank... you..._" Pale hands carefully lifted the food items from dark.

The native smiled and, without a sound, disappeared into the forest, running with the wind and new-found excitement. Running across the stones that scattered around the river, he found his way back to one of his many homes.

"_Atvgi'a__!_ I have returned!" The boy shouted as he entered the tribe. There were many calls of welcome and many children came out to meet him.

"Dyami-Yuma!" a small girl called as she stumbled on the dirt. "Welcome back! Did you bring us anything?" She gripped his arm and bounced up and down as the other children gathered around. Dyami sat on the dirt and pulled his sack from his hip. Grinning, he pulled out a few small objects.

"Here," he said, handing the children the different shells he pulled from the beach. "These are good enough, right? You don't already have them?" The kids smiled and hugged Dyami, thanking him. "Now, where is my _gaho_?" He scanned the village at the woman collecting freshly harvest corn and fruits.

"Nuna is in the hut! She announced that her husband is traveling down with his tribe," a boy said, tugging on a feather that decorated his long, dark hair.

Dyami blinked. "Hiamovi is coming?" He paused, then smiled. "That's great news! Thanks, Wapi," he said, getting up from the ground. Patting the children on the head, he jogged over to his hut, gently opening the curtain.

"Gaho-Nuna? I have returned..." he said quietly as the fire in the center of the tent crackled. There, in the far corner – back facing the young man – a slender woman with silky, long raven hair woven with beads and flowers, hung over her work. "Gaho?" He whispered again, peering around her shoulder.

She quickly covered her project and turned around to face her son. "Dyami!" she smiled warmly, wrapping her arms around her tall son. "You're home earlier than expected... did you have a successful hunting day? Most of the men are still out." She took the quiver and bow from the boy's back and set them on a wooden shelf. "Let's see what you've got there."

Nuna opened the sack and pulled out the coyote meat, skin, and bones. "He sure must have been a big one," she said, examining the bones and feeling the soft fur. "We will have a great feast tonight."

Dyami looked up at his mother, who was still smiling and youthful. "Gaho... I've heard that Hiamovi is coming... does that mean –"

"Yes. Ahmik is coming as well." She laughed as her child's face lit up with glee. "How long as it been since you've seen each other?"

The native boy sat down and rocked on his hind. "Wow... three, maybe four decades..." (A/N: His mother is the North American personification, father is a human. So, Dyami and Ahmik are half a nation. My head-cannon is that they have eternal youth, but can still die by wounds or sickness.) "I'm happy I can see him again. What's the occasion?"

Nuna sat up and stared at him in shock. "Your coronation. I can't believe you forgot!" Dyami's eyes widened. "Honestly child, why do you think the children were gathering all those eagle feathers last moon cycle?"

Dyami-Yuma breathed out. The eagle was his guardian animal; now he felt stupid for not realizing it before. "_Chief_," he sighed out. "I'm a little nervous for that title, Gaho. Do you really think I'm ready?"

The woman smiled softly and caressed his cheek. "Child, if you weren't ready, Mother Earth would stop living until you were." She pecked his forehead and motioned him up. "I'll get the tribe to prepare for a large dinner. Your father and brother should be here when the sun begins to fall. Go, wash up and relax."

He nodded and wrapped his arms around the petite woman before leaving the tent. Outside, the sun was higher in the sky, avoiding clouds and shining down on the active village. The women –who were weaving baskets, tending the fire, and washing clothes – waved Dyami over.

"Good afternoon, Zitkala, the day goes well with you," he said to the of the young woman. She had long, dark hair pinned to the top of her head; small assorted feathers from a bluejay peaked from under her bun. Zitkala smiled and held up an armband.

"I made this for you," she said, handing it over. "To wish you luck when you gain leadership of the tribe!" Her dimples showed when she saw Dyami grin.

"Wow," he replied, turning the band over in his hand. It was hand-beaded with many different colors and had large, flat, circle in the middle. "It's beautiful, Zitkala, thank you..." He slid the band over his left arm and let the feathers hang from the bottom. "You really outdid yourself. Where did you get the feathers?"

A small blush crept upon her cheeks. "It was nothing, Yuma... I found them scattered around the fields. The eagles must know you'll be standing for them soon. They came to guide you," Zitkala whispered shyly as Dyami hugged her small waist.

"Thank you. I love it." He waved to the other woman and began to walk off. "I'll wear it at the welcoming ceremony tonight!" As the girls disappeared from view, Dyami sighed and entered the forest once more. Thoughts swirled around his head from all the news and information he had just found. _Strange, white men, father and brother coming, becoming chief in a few days..._

He lounged against a large tree far from the tribe and picked at the grass, forgetting to tell his mother about the yellow haired man and the odd language he spoke.

Slowly, his eyes closed and his mind drifted off.

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	3. Good Afternoon

**Gah! Late update is late! Sorry you guys! My teachers decided to drown me in last minute projects before the 3rd quarter ended. I also had a bit of a Writers' Block, but I should be better now. It's going to be a lot easier to continue once Dyami and Arthur meet. 33 Then some excitement with the USUK can continue. **

**A certain brother will be appearing next chapter! :) **

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><p>Arthur sliced his way through the thick grass in the forest, trying to find his way back to the beach. He gripped the food in his hand and frowned. The native shot at him, but missed and didn't attack again... why?<p>

Looking down at the objects, he scratched at the brown, lumpy... thing. As he dug is nail deeper into the surprisingly soft food, he found a burst of light yellow on the inside; it was slightly dry and clumpy. Bringing himself to a clearing, he sat down on a rock and peeled some of the brown skin off and licked it. It didn't taste _bad, _though, it wasn't something that was very familiar. He scooped some of the yellow and placed it in his mouth. Soon, all of the potato was gone.

"Incredible," he stated simply. Getting up, he finally found his way back to the sand and salty waves to find the trees in the area were almost all gone. In their place, was the beginning of a good sized fort, surrounded by men sawing and binding it up. He trudged through the crowd and found the governor lounging about in a tent, marking a map with his thick pen.

"Where have you been, Arthur?" He asked without looking up to greet the dirty nation. Arthur cleared his throat and dusted off his trousers.

"Around. Found a meal..." he replied, leaving out the part of being face-to-face with one of the natives on this land. And that it was him who actually gave Arthur the food, saved him from being poisoned and didn't kill him. "...Don't eat the dark berries."

The governor looked up from his desk and scanned the messy haired blond. "You look like a bloody squirrel attacked you. Found a meal, you say?" He stood up. "What kind of meal?"

Arthur blinked and then took out the slabs of meat he intended to cook. "Not sure what kind of animal it is, but it has to be edible, otherwise that boy wouldn't of had –," he slowed his talking to a mumble when he realized where he was going. "We just need to roast them." The three large pieces would settle the men for now, but they weren't going to last.

The governor nodded and looked at the meat again, eyebrows arched. "Very good then... carry on..." he walked back to his desk and sat down. "We'll begin digging tomorrow morning. Prepare the men and have them clean this dust and dirt pile from my tent, it smells revolting."

Arthur Kirkland tilted his head and went back outside into the open air. He closed his eyes for a moment and just breathed; listening to His Majesty's people build and shout to each other. Even with all this commotion, it was still quite quiet. "Conner," he said without opening his eyes to the Irishman walking by with rope. "Would you like to fish with me?" He finally looked at the red-head and cocked his head toward the waters.

Conner, caught off guard, dropped the heavy rope onto the dirt. "C-captain!" He gathered up the thick bindings. "Fishing? Right now?" Arthur nodded and grabbed a net. "That sounds great, yes, Captain," he replied, handing another worker the rope and running out onto the beach to ready a rowboat. Arthur followed, spinning the net in-between his fingers and tripping over the sand.

They pushed the boat off the shore and floated slowly along the gentle tide into the vast part of the bay. Arthur threw the net over the edge and handed the ends to Conner to tie them. "It's rather nice here, isn't it? No bustling carriages or streets of busy people to get run over with," he mused, "Blimey... what a paradise..."

"Ye'..." Conner slowly nodded. "It is really beautiful... but the governor wants to start digging up the gold and go back to Britain as soon as possible... he keeps mentioning the savages..."

"Don't call them that," Arthur snapped, glancing in his direction. Calmer, he said, "We don't know them yet." He had a brief nostalgia of the young man again, his darker skin and black hair with a strand that seemed to defy gravity along with the small feathers tucked into beads. "What would you do if someone who appears so kind was ordered to be killed...?" He asked hesitantly, looking down at the fish who were getting caught in the net.

Conner stared at his captain for a moment, taking in what he asked. "That's good question, sir. Why would a kind man be put to death?"

The green eyed nation pursed his lips and rested his chin on a hand. "He was judged before the boss knew him." He didn't necessarily mean the 'kind man' was the native he just ran into, but for all the people already on this land.

The Irishman nodded silently, pulling up the net that was now filled with fish of different sizes. Arthur shook his head out of his daze and helped unravel the fish into a bucket. "Sorry for ranting," the Brit mumbled, pouring some water into the bucket as well. "Not many people have the time to listen to me..."

"It's no problem, sir. Your company is pleasant and you mean well; that's all anyone could ever ask for," Conner said, smiling. "Besides, the boys back home weren't always there to listen to _me_ when I needed to rant. I'm glad that you trust me, Captain. It means a lot."

Arthur sat quietly for a moment before staring at the water. "Maybe we should find a fresh water stream..." he said, switching subjects completely. "Food is one thing... but water is another..." The fish took up most of the space in the salty bucket and began to jump to and fro. Conner reached out and threw the net over it, trapping the rest inside.

"That sounds like a good idea to me," Conner replied, grabbing the oars and turning the small boat around. "To be honest, sir... most of the men are terrified of you. They think you're some unearthly demon who doesn't die when he's shot." The young man laughed, jokingly. "Though, I have to note that you act very different around me..."

The nation caught his breath and glanced to the water. "Ha... ha. Yes, I suppose I don't blame them," he said, rocking slightly side-to-side before smirking. "I am one hell of a swordsman; a simple bullet from a silly Frenchman can't do me any harm. Honestly, that frog has some issues." He laughed lightly before quieting down, looking out at the dense forests around them. "I do throw an eppy once in a while, but I suppose since you seemed like the only bloke who wouldn't try to bite my arm off if I talked to you... I don't know... It's... complicated to explain. Ignore me," Arthur mumbled as he stepped off the boat and into the warm water, pulling it on the sand. "Let's get these to the crew."

Conner nodded and picked up the basket. They walked back into the completed fort and set it down in front of the men. The governor strolled out of his tent and looked at the pile of fish and frowned, not saying a word. He scanned the wooden walls around them and at the grand Union Jack above their heads. Arthur scowled and crossed his arms impatiently.

"Governor, I do believe we have mouths for a reason. Spit it out already."

Said man glanced at the blond and narrowed his hazel eyes. "Is this enough for the day? The food, I mean. Does this land have nothing else but rotten fish?"

Another Englishman mumbled something under his breath and a muffled laughter spread around the camp, even Arthur smirked a bit, but covered his mouth with a hand. The governor rolled his eyes and sat down, waving over a small brunette man. He stumbled over the ground and his small ponytail continued to whip his face.

"Yes, sir – governor, sir?" his English came out quick and stuttered.

"Get me my tea. Hard work like this gets me parched," he said, sitting back and propping his feet up on a barrel. Arthur scoffed and watched as the poor fellow ran into the tent to make the tea. The most the governor did was breathe; he barely let the sun touch him. "Arthur, sit down, I need to have a little chat with you."

Quietly, the Brit sat on a small barrel while the workers moved on to explore the beaches. "What's on your mind, _sir_?" He asked harshly, tapping the ground with his toe. The brunette came stumbling out of the tent with a plate of tea and sugar. He set them down on a table and turned towards the blond.

"D-do you need anything, Mr. K-kirkland?" he whispered softly while pouring out the hot drink to the governor.

Arthur calmed his expression. "No, thank you, Milo. I'm not quite parched at this moment," he lied as the server quietly nodded and practically ran away from the two men. "So, Governor, you were going to say...?"

The man took a few sips from the tea before looking around the area. "Ah, yes. It is about tonight. I was thinking of the shifts that the men and you will take; any sight of the savages, I expect you to give them the proper, English greeting," he said sternly.

"Gift baskets~?" the nation asked with a slight smirk, enjoying the mockery of his boss. The governor frowned and set the cup down.

"Now isn't the time for jokes, England." The said nation glanced up at the use of his country name. "If there are people on this land – and we all know there are – there is no doubt they have a..." he leaned in and mumbled quietly, "personification as well."

Arthur smiled and tapped his chin. "Well that would add much excitement, now wouldn't it? Have no fear, sir, I'm sure I can handle another Country. Bloody France popping in all the time has prepared me for anything." He removed himself from the barrel and began his way out of the camp. Turning around, he added, "I'm positive, I can handle it."

With that, he left.

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	4. Spotted

**Ah! I'm so sorry for the wait! I had three school projects to finish and had absolutely no time to write! I literally just wrote this chapter an hour ago, so feel free to tell me if you see any grammar or spelling errors. I was half paying attention and was very rushed to finish this chapter because my mom just got out of the hospital yesterday and even now, I have to take care of her. Please R&R~! Since summer is coming, I hope to update much quicker! I'm not sure if I like this chapter, but I'm not going to rewrite it now! Hopefully the next one won't be as rushed. Enjoy my two hour work! Oh! And "toqguos" means "twin"**

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><p>The sun passed the noon mark of the day and disappeared behind a cloud. Most of the forest was quiet, except the occasional chirping of birds or the sticks breaking from a nearby deer. Above the tree-line, wingspan of seventy-five inches, a grand bird let out a loud squall. Dyami-Yuma eyes snapped open and he jumped up, hitting the branch above him.<p>

"Ow!" he cried, falling back to his knees while rubbing the back of his head. The bird perched itself on the tree and stared down at the half-nation. "Kwahu, stop doing that to me! You're going to give me a concussion someday..." he looked up and scolded the eagle. "Tch... do you want food? Is that it? Why can't you go hunting on your own, huh?" The bald eagle leaned forward and squalled again, flapping its wings and hovering down to sit on Dyami's shoulder.

The native leaned his head over to the side as the bird's sharp talons clutched to his shoulder. "What am I going to do with you..." he said, standing up and looking around. "I was asleep longer than I thought... my _toqguos_ will be arriving soon."

Weaving his way through the large forest, the chief's son sat down at the rivers edge, dipping his legs into the cool water. He sighed contently and ruffled the back of his guardian bird's feathers with his hand. "Hey, Kwahu... did you see the strange white person today? I saw him looking around with a really long, silver stick. I gave him some food, but there was this strange feeling around him... Almost like my mother's," he mumbled. Kwahu turned his head and began nipping at Dyami's ahoge. "Ow! Ow! Stop it!" He pushed the bird off his shoulder and slid more into the river. "Go eat a mouse or something if you're not going to help me!"

The boy pouted as his friend flew away; quietly he crouched down in the quick moving river, letting the water rise above his chest and slap him in the face. "Stupid bird..." he thought.

The river led straight to the ocean if one went through its twists and turns through the east. To the west, a large waterfall fell into a larger lake; Dyami stared and looked at both ways before curiosity hit him once more and he swam east. Slipping under the surface, the native quickly reached the bank of the river, crawling up the sandy dirt and into the grass. Though his spying skills weren't great, being a hunter gave all of his people the skill to move quietly.

Glancing up, Dyami gasped and slapped a hand over his mouth. Thin, white clouds were attached to a long tree, blowing desperately in the wind. The `tree` was connected to... to... a giant house? Dyami-Yuma squinted and continued to stare at the object. Was this the eyebrowed man's home? He moved his way through the grass and slid behind a rock.

"_Why are you here? Shouldn't you be helping the others will the food?_"

"_Oh! My apologize, Captain. I lost track of time... I'll go do that right now!_"

Dyami watched as another white-skinned man talked to his familiar yellow haired one. A small smile escaped his lips as the other person left, leaving him all alone with the stranger. The man faced the ocean and sighed, leaning his weight over to his left foot and placing his hands at his hips; Dyami couldn't help but notice that the strange clothing he wore clung very tightly to his butt. Pressing his lips together, the native peered more from behind the rock. The white-man looked up at the sky and talked aloud in his different language –causing the yuma to cock his head in confusion.

"_Another personification... not really looking forward to that..._"

As Dyami continued to stare, Kwahu descended from the sky, landing with a soft thud near the native's feet. He nipped the man's toe and squalled.

Dyami whipped his head around and grabbed the bird, holding his beak together with his thumb and index finger. The yellow-haired man turned around, sword already in hand.

"_Who's there?_" he demanded, walking slowly to the rock, eyes alert. Dyami wrestled silently with his guardian bird, trying to keep him quiet. Kwahu squeezed through his partner's arms and sauntered out in front of the Englishman. "_Oh my.. well you're quite the large bird..._" The native's eyes widened in fear. He wasn't going to hurt Kwahu was he? He listened to the sounds of the man's boots clicking on the ground, coming closer. Dyami couldn't take the chance.

Rolling out from behind the rock, Dyami grabbed the bird and landed in a crouch. The green-eyed man sucked in a quick breath and didn't move. The two had a silent stare-down until Kwahu clambered out of Dyami's arms and walked onto his back. The native broke his eye contact with the Englishman and reached back to his friend. "_En__õ__mbre-kan-to yo nah!_" he said aloud, causing the other man to rise a brow.

Arthur watched the native wrestle with the large bird, spitting out words and phrases in his home's language. He looked down at his drawn sword and sighed, taking it and slipping it back inside the sheath. "I remember you," he said, catching the native's dark brown eyes with his. "You were the lad who gave me some food... Thank you... for that..." With little fear, he held out his hand. "My name is Arthur Kirkland."

Dyami-Yuma looked at the pale hand in front of him, letting Kwahu fly away. Something about the way the man spoke made his body shiver. "I... can't understand you..." he said in his native tongue, still looking at the hand –half expecting it to do something.

The native-American language was quite hard to decipher. It wasn't like any of the languages that Arthur learned from the other nations. Instead of withdrawing his hand, he crouched down and took the others in his; it was larger, rougher, and especially darker toned than his own. He smiled when the native didn't pull away, only tensed his shoulders when the Englishman touched him. "Arthur," he repeated, shaking the boy's hand and using his other hand to point to himself.

Hand contact with the stranger definitely made the chief's son's mind go blank. He parted his lips and glanced up into the grass-green eyes. With words bubbling up into his throat, he mumbled out, "Dyami..." and shook the hand back. Pursing his lips again, he pointed to the man and repeated. "Arthur."

Arthur's face lit up; he never expected a real response from the native. "Dyami... your name is Dyami?" he asked, pointing to the boy. He received a nod and another mumble of his name.

The two sat down and continued to talk in their different languages, pointing and asking about the objects and clothing the other wore. The sun drifted down to horizon. Dyami's shoulders relaxed and he let out a laugh when he couldn't get Arthur to understand something he said. Arthur chuckled lightly and glanced around, wondering if there was anyone watching.

"Dyami... I was wondering, are your people aware of mine?" he asked slowly, spending the last hour or so trying to teach and learn languages. Nations often learn things much quicker than humans; the fact that this one native caught onto his language so quickly made him wary.

"I..." the native scrunched his eyebrows down as the English rolled off his tongue. "I think I am... t-the only... one." Arthur nodded to the broken words and sat back.

"We should probably-" He was caught off when Dyami stood up, eyes alert. "What? What's wrong?" he asked, standing up, following the gaze of his new friend.

The wind blew by, carrying the mist from the ocean and a cool breeze to make Arthur shiver. "The drums..." Dyami said quietly. "They are here... I must go..." He began to run off; the blond reached out and grabbed the taller's arm.

"Wait!" he shouted, finally taking interest in someone on this unfamiliar land. "Can we... will we meet again...?" Chocolate brown eyes looked back at him and a warm, heart-melting smile gave him his answer. Reaching into his pocket, the native pulled out one of Kwahu's feathers and propped it behind Arthur's ear.

"Promise," he said and disappeared into the trees, leaving the Brit alone on the shore.

Dyami-Yuma ran faster than he ever did, a genuine smile grazing his lips as he let out a whoop. "Arthur," he repeated. "Arthur, Arthur, Arthur~!"

The village was filled with cheering people and the happy cries of two tribes meeting. Dyami searched the crowd and found his mother –who was crying in joy and hugging her human husband –his father.

"Father!" He shouted, feeling slightly odd when talking back in his own language. The boy made his way through the crowd and ran to his father. "You're back!" he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around the growing-old man.

"Yes, yes! Oh my, you look exactly the same," the chief said, pulling his son back by the shoulders and giving him a long stare. "It's been a long time!"

"Where's my hug?" a small voice came from behind. Dyami peered over his father's shoulder and his smile grew wider.

"Ahmik!" he cried, pulling his smaller-built twin into a tight hug. "Oh I missed you, my _togquos! _How were the snow-mountain range?"

Ahmik-Yuma, Dyami-Yuma's twin brother, smiled and hugged him back. "It was cold! But my people brought back a lot of meat and my hunting skill improved... I may be as strong as you one day!" The brothers left the loud tribes and sat by one of the fire's. "Your coronation is almost here... are you nervous? Father was twitching the whole time when we were walking back."

Dyami laughed and rubbed the back of his head. "A little, I guess. I'm not sure if I want to lead everyone just yet." He smiled at his brother's words. "Strong as me, huh? I doubt it," he joked. "That's like me being as smart as you."

Ahmik smiled back. "Like _that_ would ever happen."

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	5. Not Really a Posh Life

**Hey guys, it's a short chapter because I felt guilty for not updating in so long. With the trip to Quebec and school starting... everything has been crazy. **

**Please, request what you want to happen with Dyami and Arthur! Prompt me, give a theme - it's an adventure fic too! Not just romance! Do you want them to swim, canoe, climb mountains, what what what. I'm thinking about taking 10 prompts before returning to the main plot to end it and wrap it up. **

**Thanks for reading! **

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><p>The British man walked into his tent and shut the curtain behind him. His eyes were downcast at the dirt and a hand touched the feather behind his ear.<p>

Arthur never flailed more than he did just then in his life.

He cleared his throat and stood up straight, patting the dirt off his trousers and walking to his desk, letting his fingers linger around the top. He could feel the smile on his face; a different smile than normal. Arthur pressed his lips together and allowed his forehead to hit the edge of the table with a bang. He dropped his sheath to the ground and sighed.

Dyami, he thought. His name is Dyami.

The name was stuck in his head for hours.

"A-arthur? Are you in there?" A shadow loomed across the opening of the tent, causing Arthur to tense up and and quickly move away from the desk.

He opened the curtain and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Oh... hello Conner. Yes, what is it?" Arthur held the tent door in his left hand, keeping it close to his body as to shield the room away from the soldier. The sun was almost gone, disappearing behind the tall trees in the distance. Temperature near the ocean was dropping slowly, Arthur could already feel the wind pick up.

Conner opened his mouth to reply, but stopped. His hazel eyes squinted, "Sir," he said slowly. "You have a feather in your hair..." Reaching out to touch it, a quick hand slapped it away.

"Yes... Can't a man stick a bird's feather behind his ear and not get criticized for it?" Arthur mumbled out. Conner pulled his hand back and apologized.

"I'm... sorry, sir," he replied, voice going quiet. The nation nodded his okay and stared at him to continue on. "Oh, yes... the governor was looking for you for quite some time; I thought it would be best that you visited him before you went to bed, sir." He grinned sheepishly, "He's been quite a prick since you wandered off."

Arthur looked at the ground and scoffed. "When isn't he a prick?" he laughed. "Very well... thank you, Conner," he said, stepping out of the tent. "I am sorry. I did not mean to lash out at you. This feather is... special." He took the eagle feather from his hair and twirled it in his fingers before attaching it to his belt. "Go and sleep now. We'll be up and working by dawn."

The Irishman nodded and sauntered off to his tent, leaving the Brit in the misty wind. Arthur sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before looking around the camp. Most of the men were putting together fire-pits and talking amongst themselves, ignoring the sunset and beautiful surroundings.

_Humans_, Arthur thought.

The Governor's tent was the largest of the bunch – which was very unnecessary considering that he was the only one in it. Arthur stopped in front of the sheet covering the doorway and glared at it, hoping it would burn down from the intensity of his staring. He really didn't want to talk to the governor; he had enough of that face.

Walking inside, Arthur spotted the man polishing his sword. The nation remained quiet and linked his hands behind his back, his pinkie finger lightly brushed the feathers tip.

"You seemed awfully enthusiastic this evening when you returned to the fort..." the governor said while he held the sword up in the air. His voice held a strange and slightly angry tone.

Arthur kept his face neutral and questioned him. "Is it wrong for an empire to be happy from time to time? After all the stress and pain we go through, we can't smile and linger?" His jaw clenched up when the human stood from his bed, gripping the sword tightly.

"Quite..." he replied, stepping to the desk to place the sword into the sheath. "How are the men?" His tone stated he clearly didn't care.

"Preparing for the night. We are not aware of the weather conditions of this land, so I recommend bundling up. Maybe you should tie a rope around your neck so the tide doesn't come in and pull you out to sea."

"Oh, belt up," the governor growled, causing Arthur to internally snicker. "You've been nothing but mischievous this entire time!" He stalked over to where the nation stood and looked him eye to eye. "His Majesty expects success, not foolery. And I will _not_ stand for immature behavior –!"

Arthur rolled his eyes as his current boss ranted on.

"That's very interesting and all, but I believe you haven't even spoken directly to the King, while I've lived through dozens. If you don't mind, _sir_, I'll be heading off to bed. The men will take their shifts and you can do whatever bloody fancies your pish posh mood," the blond said as he sarcastically bowed his head and stepped out of the tent.

Ѿ Ѿ Ѿ


	6. I Shoot, You Fire

**What's this? An update? Yes! And it's longer than usual! I immediately started writing this after my first requested review. Thank you _rexlover180_! Your idea helped a lot! **

**So here's a longer update. I felt guilty for not updating in a while and then sadly posting a short little chapter. So between US History homework (which makes me all feel-y) and friends, I threw together this little sha-bang. **

**(To _The Dangerous One_, thanks for your request! I'll put that in my "to add to story" list! ^^)**

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><p>Constellations are different in North America compared to Europe. The stars shown brighter and comets blasted through the dark sky as animals rested in their homes or hunted for their food.<p>

The Englishman fell asleep on the ground that night, just a couple feet from his bed. The blanket was pulled sloppily from the mattress and draped over Arthur's thighs and stomach in a desperate attempt to keep warm. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead and the mumbling grew louder.

..._"You killed them! I thought we were your ally!"_

_ Arthur stepped back in utter shock. "N-no, I didn't kill them, it was all an accident! I – "_

_ "You monster! Get out! Leave and never come back!" Tears fell from the woman's face as Arthur held back his before he belted from the woods, covering his mouth to keep from screaming..._

The nation jerked up from the ground with a gasp of air. Running a hand through his hair, Arthur brought his knees up to his chin and sighed.

"I haven't had a nightmare in years..." he whispered to himself, wiping the sweat off of his face with the blanket. He stood up after a moment and shook his head before walking to his desk. Slightly clean clothes, but covered with patches of dirt, were folded neatly beside his paperwork. Arthur pulled the nightgown over his head and tossed it lazily on the bed. Grabbing his trousers, he opened his tent a crack and peered outside. The men on duty to watch were lounging about near the fire, tiredly talking about their girls back home and how long they'd have to dig for before the gold was found.

Arthur darted from the tent, stepping on the ground without making a sound. The moon was still up, but the navy blue sky was turning aqua, and the sun would be peaking through the trees soon. When the nation was out of the fort, he made his way to sounds of rushing water. After weeks on board a ship, one does not simply get a decent bath with grotesque men and the beating sun on you all the time. Arthur slipped through a few more bushes and finally came to a small stream, cutting the forest with a curvy line. Tossing off his trousers, he stepped into the water and felt his muscles relax. The cool water felt nice after the dreadful nightmare that increased his body temperature ten-fold. He took his hands and scrubbed at his hair, watching the dirt fall into the water and carried off downstream.

Closing his eyes, the nation took in a deep breath. _So much to do,_ he thought tiredly. He could feel what was happening in his land and how the people were; listening to their conversations like they were just small thoughts. Arthur was used to being constantly away from home, but an entire ocean's continent away was new to him.

"You have a lot of scars, Arthur..."

The Brit's eyes snapped open and a quick move to cover his genitals made half the stream splash onto the grass. Dyami sat in a nearby tree, swinging his leg and staring down at him with a small smile.

"Bloody freaking hell!" Arthur snapped. "How long were you there!?" He sat deeper in the water and felt his face beat red.

Dyami chuckled and leaned closer from the tree. "A while..." he said and jumped down, necklaces thumping softly against his bare chest. The native sat down by the waters edge and grinned down at the drenched Englishman. "You're bathing _here_?" he asked with a lift of an eyebrow.

Arthur blushed furiously and looked around. "Well, where else am I suppose to bathe? The ocean doesn't clean as well in case you didn't know."

"True, but drinking water isn't the best either... Now we're going to be consuming: 'after-taste-Arthur'," he stated, smiling as Arthur looked down at the water.

"Oh," the Brit said bluntly, "I'm sorry; I didn't know..." He looked around for his trousers and spotted them resting on a rock a couple meters from where he sat. "Um.. could you...?" he glanced at Dyami and nodded to the pants. Dyami laughed and pushed himself from the ground, walking over to the pants and handing them over to the blond. "...Could you turn, please?" Dyami closed his eyes and faced the trees as Arthur slipped into the bottoms and stepped out of the stream.

"If you need something better to dry yourself with, you can use my shawl," the native-American said, grabbing the fur from the tree branch and giving it to Arthur. "You'll get cold if you're not completely dry." He smiled and sat down again next to the tree.

Arthur accepted the cloth and hung it around his shoulders and went to sit by Dyami. "What are you doing up so early?" He asked, picking at the strands of fur.

"Couldn't sleep. The gods sent me bad dreams... Must of been something I ate!" Dyami-Yuma chuckled softly, rubbing the back of neck.

"So you ran into the woods... shirtless?"

"You're shirtless too."

"Yes, but I have a legitimate reason to be, thank you," Arthur smiled and rubbed his cold nose against the shawl. "Well I guess you had this... so I suppose we're even." He heard Dyami sigh and glanced over to the younger. His bangs covered most of his face in a well-kept manner, except one strand that seemed to defy gravity as it swayed in the breeze. "Are you okay, Dyami?"

"Your scars..." a whisper came as a reply. "You have so many..." He turned to face the Brit with a distressed look on his face. "Were you hurt?" The sheer sadness in his voice made Arthur's heart melt.

"No, no, I'm fine. Most of them are from wars and battles... most I've won, so they are just memories now. To be honest, somewhere I'm still fighting..." the nation looked at the sun that was just spreading its rays through the sky. The dark blue sky turned a rosy pink and orange, turning the clouds a dark violet. "It's so beautiful," Arthur whispered.

Dyami broke his gaze with the blond and looked toward the east. "She sure is," he mumbled, squinting through the trees. "Oh no..." Off in the distance, a set of wings came pounding in; squawks echoed through the forest, causing a wave of little birds to fly away as fast as their small wings could flap. Dyami stood up from the tree and walked to the center of the clearing. "Oh no, Kwahu, don't..." he said aloud. Arthur glanced up at the eagle making its way – fast – to the Native-American.

The bald eagle slammed its body into the native, sending the boy backward and into the stream. Kwahu nipped at Dyami's hair and clawed his chest while the demi-nation pulled himself out of the water. Arthur slapped both hands over his face and peered through his fingers throughout the impact.

"That... bird has quite the personality," Arthur chuckled as Dyami unhitched his companion from his torso.

"Yeah, I guess you could – ow – say that," the other replied, biting his lip as Kwahu removed his claws. "He's a pain in the neck if you ask me. Causing trouble and _injuries_, but," he added, "he's loyal and at least there for me. I don't know how he finds me exactly..." Dyami shook his head back and forth and droplets from his hair misted Arthur's face.

"I should thank him, he led us to actually talk to one another instead of handing us random, brown lumps of food and then running away," the Brit said, smirking. A light laugh came from beside him. "What was that food anyway?"

"Um, well, you wouldn't find our name for it to be easy, so I guess you can call it whatever your little English stomach wants to," Dyami grinned while pinching the beak of the eagle. "It's a vegetable if you wanted to know. We usually added spices or mix it with other foods to it so it wouldn't be so plain tasting."

Arthur nodded, enjoying his small culture lesson. Thinking about food made him think of the previous night... when he forgot to grab a plate to eat. His `little English stomach` decided to growl in the middle of Dyami's talk. Dyami pressed his lips together and looked towards the blond, brown eyes squinted in amusement.

"You haven't eaten for a while, have you?" he asked, looking around for his bag. "Darn... I think I left it in my hut..." Dyami rolled to his knees and glanced at Arthur. "Are you free this afternoon?"

Arthur thought of the governor's plan for the men to start digging. He would probably be distracted for most of the day. "Yes, I believe so... why?"

The native smiled. "Would you like to go hunting with me? That way you won't have to worry about starving all day!" he said, standing up. "Meet me here just before the sun hits its high point, okay?" Kwahu climbed his leg to perch on his shoulder, dark golden eyes stared at the Brit.

Arthur nodded and smiled. "I will," he replied, standing up and unwrapping the warm shawl from his shoulders; he handed it to Dyami. "Here, thank you very much. I'll see you later, then..." He glanced up to the taller and bowed his head.

Dyami's smile grew. "Of course!" he shouted while Arthur walked back into the underbrush. Letting out a long breath, he pet Kwahu's feathers and chuckled. "I wonder if he knows his bottom is soaked through..." Kwahu flapped his wing into the boy's face. "Okay, okay, that's enough. Let's go home," he said, walking through the forest. The dark green leaves were beginning to turn yellow – Autumn seemed to be coming early this year. Dyami-Yuma plucked the wild flowers that he passed by, collecting a few dozen in his arms while the eagle flew beside him, leaving now and then to catch a stray mouse.

"Don't you have any friends?" Dyami asked his bird when he returned. Kwahu gave him a long look before thumping his talons on the boy's dark hair. "Ow!" he yelped while swatting the eagle. "You are such an abuser. And of course I have friends... they're just somewhere else... stop looking at me like that..."

The tribal camp soon made it into sight. Small fires were dimming down as the sun grew a bit higher in the sky. Ahmik was by the pond behind the chief hut, murmuring words into the water. Dyami approached his brother and looked over his shoulder; a small beaver waded a few feet out, looking at Ahmik with admiration.

"C'mon, it's okay! I won't hurt you!" Ahmik whispered to the animal, hands out. The beaver slapped his flat tail on the water, pushing himself forward a bit. "Yes, your tail is beautiful!"

Dyami pressed his lips together and sat down on a rock, watching his brother trying to grab the beaver. He noticed that the brown animal's foot was bleeding. Probably bitten by a wolf, Dyami thought with a frown. Ahmik's spirit animal was a beaver – which probably led him to trying to help the poor animal anyway.

Ahmik blew his dark, curled ahoge from his face and smiled at the beaver. "Come now, I want to help you," he said calmly, taking a few steps into the water. The beaver paddled forward into the boy's arms and was slowly picked up. "Let's go get that wrapped up now, okay?" he smiled, turning around to face Dyami. "Oh!" He jumped back a couple of inches and gripped the beaver tightly. "Dyami! How.. how long were you there?"

Said man snickered. Arthur had said the same thing. "Not long," he replied. "Just got back from a walk and saw you by the water; guess I should of spoken up, but I was afraid I would scare you little beaver. What happened to him by the way?" He rubbed the top of the beaver's head with his pinkie. "His foot looks really bad..."

"I'm not sure," Ahmik whispered. "I woke up an hour or so ago and heard some snapping... he could have been bitten...or maybe he hurt himself while creating a dam... Would you help me with the blood?" He cupped the animal and walked over the tall grass and into his tent.

Ahmik kept his hut relatively clean and tidy. Dyami followed him in and accidentally hit the spear that was resting right next to the doorway. It fell to the floor with a loud thump, causing the beaver to jump in Ahmik's arms.

"Ah, sorry! I got it, I got it. It wasn't me, I swear!"

"It's okay... I just had to make that one up north. Took down a lot of polar bears," the boy said while setting the beaver down. "Shh, it's okay Ghobi..." he whispered.

Dyami sat down with a cloth and dabbed at the blood. "Polar bears, huh? Is that why I'm seeing a lot of white fur? It's very pretty..."

"Yes," he replied, wrapping the bandage around the foot. "I felt bad though... I think I killed a young bear's mother. The small one looked so distressed; the guilt was practically unbearable."

"I'm sure he'll be fine. Who knows, maybe you two will be best friends in the future..." Dyami joked softly. "Do you plant to go back up north soon? You seem to like it up there... cold and snow... and maple trees."

"Maple trees are amazing, don't judge me," Ahmik smiled. "And stop saying that there's only rocks and trees –"

"And water."

" – Oh shut it! You're not helping! Yeah, I might go back up. After winter though, because it's not as bad down here."

Dyami silently thought of Arthur and how he and his people were going to survive in their winter. He was sure that where ever they came from had snow, but the tents that the strangers made didn't seem so warm. Ahmik stared at his brother with a frown. He was acting different from the way he remembered him from so long ago.

Well, thanks. Ghobi looks alright now; you can go off and do... whatever you do when you're bored," the longer haired brunette said, picking up the beaver and walking over to the bed. "I'm going back to sleep for a few more hours; it was a long walk – I feel like I can sleep forever." He cuddled with Ghobi and closed his eyes. "Don't do anything stupid."

Dyami glanced up to his brother and smiled. "Of course not," he said quietly and got up, walking out of the tent and closing the blankets behind him. He could smell the wet grass and the scent of boiling potatoes. Summer was almost over and Autumn in their area was a beautiful time. The leaves would turn dark reds and oranges and pumpkins would grow in places you wouldn't imagine. Yellow leaves and fallen twigs would be scattered along the forest grounds and the animals would be out collecting their food to last them for the winter. The sun rose higher and higher by the minutes and the temperature rose from its chilliness to a comfortable climate.

Dyami slid into the crack of his doorway and grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head. His hut was clean, not as clean as his brothers... but clean non the less. His bed was covered in buffalo skin and was softer than one would think. Arrows were scattered along the ground while his bow and quiver rested by the door. He kept his clothes, war paint, and traditional jewelry in a wooden chest he carved when he was younger. Sitting down in front of the chest, he opened it and pulled out a few bands and beads. Taking a couple strands of his hair, he slid the beads on one by one and clamped them shut.

Kwahu appeared beside him and tipped his head into the chest, pulling out one of his molted feathers. "Do you want me to wear this?" Dyami asked the bird while looping it into the beads. "There, I'm just like you now." The eagle nuzzled into his arm making the boy smile. "You're such a good friend – would you like to watch Arthur and I hunt? I told him to get ready a while ago... do you think he's already waiting?"

Shutting the chest, the native crawled over to the doorway and slid the quiver over the left side of his torso; grabbing the arrows, he placed them neatly into the opening and pulled his bow over his shoulder. "Well, let's go, Kwahu."

They left the tribal camp once again and made their way into the forest. The sun shone trough cracks in the trees, casting shadows to the west. Dyami could spot the areas where deer and wolves had stepped and made their marks. Hearing the stream ahead, he picked up pace and crouched down behind the bush. There was Arthur; wearing new trousers and a light brown vest over a slightly loose shirt. His hair still a mess and his brows were furrowed in worry. Dyami grinned and took an arrow from his quiver.

Arthur picked at the grass near the stream, he had ran back to the fort to change clothes and to grab his musket, but the governor had stopped him for a talk.

"Maybe I took too long... what if he already left?" he mumbled underneath his breath. He threw a leaf into the air and watched it blow in the wind. With a soft crunch, it was quickly pinned across the stream to a tree. The Brit jumped up and stared at the bush from where the arrow came from. "Dyami!"

The native-American rolled out of the forest with a wide grin. "You should of seen your face!" he laughed. Arthur sighed and pinched his nose.

"You almost gave a heart attack; _again_," he said, walking over to the younger. "I see you decided to put on a shirt this time," he mused. Dyami pouted and looked at his shirt.

"Did you want me to continue being shirtless?"

Well this definitely threw the Brit off. "N-no! No, you're fine, it's fine!" He noticed the smirk on the boy. "You twat! Stop doing that to me!" he slapped Dyami's shoulder and crossed his arms. "You said we were going hunting..."

Dyami jumped up, grabbing the bow from his shoulder. "That's right! Did you bring your gear?"

Arthur pulled the musket from his back and weighed it in his hands. "Indeed I did," he said.

The other stared at the long, double barreled firearm in front of him. "What... what is that?" he asked, confusion making its way to his facial expression.

"It's a gun."

"_Gun_?"

"Yes, a gun. We Europeans use it to hunt and to fight... It's pretty deadly and very useful!" Arthur replied, opening the barrel to check the gunpowder on the inside. Dyami continued to stare at the musket before shaking his head.

"Okay, right." He pulled another arrow from the quiver and twisted the feathered end with his fingers, placing it on the bow. "Are you ready?"

"Of course I am."

They crossed the stream and walked quietly into the other side of the forest. This side was thicker and caused more shadows to cascade from the trees. Arthur looked around, listening to the chirps of birds and snaps of twigs. Then he glanced at Dyami, who was crouched low and pulling back on the bow. He returned the glance from the Brit and nodded; they both sat down behind a large tree. Dyami tilted his head and held his breath, looking over his shoulder to the deer who was eating the grass in the distance. Arthur watched the native turn back and close his eyes, letting out a quiet sigh.

"_Deer, I am sorry to hurt you, but the people are hungry_," he whispered as lightly as he could and then, in one quick movement, pushed himself from the tree, pulled back on his bow and released the arrow. It zipped through the air like a hummingbird and hit the target dead on. Arthur let out a choked laugh.

"That was fantastic!" he said as they walked over to the deer. Dyami knelt down and continued speaking his his native tongue. Arthur pressed his lips together and looked at the concentrated boy, who took out his knife and began to skin the animal. "Dyami, what were you saying before...?" he asked when the other finished his job.

Dyami looked up and placed the bow back over his shoulder. "It was a prayer," he said, like it was an obvious answer. "Do your people not...?" He stopped as Arthur shook his head. "Oh... well, it's customary that we thank the Great Spirit for providing us food..."

Arthur nodded and smiled. "That's very thoughtful. You're a great archer by the way. I haven't shot an arrow since I was... younger," he said, biting his lip. It wasn't like he could come out and say its been a couple centuries. "My turn, then?"

They continued their walk through the woods in silence. Each took turn glancing at each other before looking away, pretending to be distracted by a random squirrel that would be bouncing from branch to branch with it's mouth full of acorns.

"So," Dyami said, breaking the awkward. "What exactly are your people doing here?" Arthur turned to look at him. "Not that I don't want you here! I love having your company! But, wait, not like that – arg, I can't speak English, don't judge me!" the boy stopped walking and fell to the ground, rolling around in frustration.

Arthur covered his smile with the back of his hand. "Well," he chuckled. "I guess we're mostly here for gold; my king is determined to gain more than Spain has found."

"Spain?" Dyami asked, getting back to his feet. "Is that another European?"

"Yes, Spain is a more southern European nation. Just like I am... from England," Arthur said, watching his words carefully.

"Oh, I see. From the way you put it, I take it you don't like them very much –" Dyami stopped talking and held up his hand. _Your turn_, he mouthed.

Arthur knelt on the forest floor, lighting and blowing on the string that would fire the bullet. Dyami climbed up a tree and sat behind a wall of leaves to watch the Englishman with his strange hunting device. About seven meters away, a large deer walked slowly between the bushes, ears perched high with alert. Dyami looked back from the animal to Arthur, who was placing the musket at eye level, aiming carefully.

With a loud, echoing ring, the gun was shot and the deer fell dead instantly. Dyami jumped back and slammed to the ground with a surprised yelp; terrified of the thunderous boom that the musket caused. Arthur stood up and placed it back on his back, turning to the native that was laying like a dead possum on the floor.

"Are you alright?" he asked, feeling slightly guilty for not warning him about the noise. Dyami opened one eye and looked around.

"Am I dead?"

"No, you're alive and breathing."

"I think I'm having a 'heart attack' as you put it," he mumbled as he rolled to his feet, gripping onto the tree with one hand with the other on his chest. "Your weapon shoots lightning..."

Arthur opened his mouth and then shut it before bursting out in laughter. "I am so sorry!" he said, tears coming out between his laughs. "I should have mentioned that it made a loud sound. I'm sorry!" He walked over and pulled the boy from the trunk of the tree. He placed a hand over Dyami's heart and looked up at him. "Your heart is fine, no heart attack," he said with a smile.

Sure he wasn't having a heart attack, but Dyami was definitely positive that his heart never beat this fast in his lifetime. "Th-The deer... um, nice aiming," he said quietly to the Brit – who chuckled and nodded.

"Thank you for inviting me, and for the deer," Arthur said after they collected what the large animal had to offer. "This will quiet my men from complaining for quite some time." Dyami handed him the good meat and placed the bones in his bag.

"Are you sure you have everything? It's pretty heavy," he said, letting the bag drop into Arthur's arms. The Englishman had no trouble holding it and slung it over his shoulder.

"Yes, that's it. Thank you..." he replied, looking up at the boy. "I like your hair accessories," he said, smiling. Dyami's hand flew to his hair, touching the beads and feather.

"Y-you do? Thanks... I can show you how to do it if you want..." he said quietly, a light blush ghosting his face. Arthur nodded and touched the eagle feather on his belt.

"I'll take you up on that offer," he said and walked out of the forest, leaving a baffled native to his day.

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	7. Decoding

**It seems watching Pocahontas helps whenever I forget to update. But yes, here's a small chapter. It's mostly filler, considering I wrote this just today. I barely got out of bed, haha. Luckily, I updated just before Columbus Day! So, my fellow Americans, enjoy your holiday! I wish the Canadians a belated Thanksgiving and to my European or Asian or Australian or World readers... Have a good Monday! The next chapter is based off of my English Literature class when we learned about Native American myths. So I suppose we can look forward to that! Please, feel free to R&R!**

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><p>As the trees began to shrink, the loud noises of shouting men grew. The wind was blowing the flag on the top of the fort gently while the waves rocked the ship back and forth in the bay. Arthur looked around at the workers, who were beginning to shovel out the ground around the area. The bag hanging on the nation's shoulder was beginning to smell; Arthur crinkled his nose.<p>

"Oi, Gregory!" he called out to a man carrying a barrel of dirt. The middle-aged man glanced over to the Brit and placed the barrel on the ground.

"Yes, Captain?" Gregory asked, walking over. "Blasted... what's that smell?"

Arthur let the strap of the bag slide into his hand. "That would be this. Have the chef prepare us a late lunch; I believe this will be enough to satisfy the crew." He handed the bag to Gregory, who had to use both hands to hold it upright.

"B-bloody hell... what is this – rocks?" He mumbled out as Arthur walked to his tent with a smile. With a sigh, Gregory threw the bag over his back and carried it into the fort.

Inside the shaded tent, the blond let out a long breath, placing his gun to the side. He hoped the governor wouldn't notice that a few balls of gunpowder was missing... then again, a man like the governor wouldn't bother to check. Arthur peered over at his desk to see an envelope. Cautiously, he took it from its spot and sat on the bed, tearing the top open. Inside was the royal seal, inked and pressed onto the parchment.

_Arthur Kirkland -Gbr._

_I am displeased to tell you that our foreign "friends" are claiming lands already in the New World. Spain has been fighting another personification in the Caribbean's and France is hastily adding colonies. Depending on when you receive this letter – of which I am sending in secret – you may have already found the personification of North America. You ultimately know what to do. You are a strong empire and a nation of glory. _

_Signed,_

_James I_

_PS. I am still waiting for word about the gold. Write back, England. We need this..._

Arthur set down the informal letter and ran a hand through his hair. He had forgotten to ask Dyami about the gold situation. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he let his mind wander for a few quiet moments before there was a voice outside the tent.

"Excuse me, s-sir..." an almost inaudible sound_ – _Arthur knew who it was. He pushed off his thighs and strolled over to the entrance, opening the curtain rather quickly. Milo jumped back, ponytail slapping himself in the face. "Oh! I'm so sorry to interrupt you and your work, sir, b-but I have a progress report to t-tell you." His hands were shaking with nervousness; Arthur pressed his lips together and nodded.

"Very well," he said softly. "You may begin..."

Milo nodded and took a deep breath. "Well, sir, the crew have been digging in the surrounding areas for five hours. Each hole was around 1.6 to 1.9 meters deep and about 1.5 meters wide. B-but according to the men, no gold has been found..." his voice trailed off to silence as Arthur's eyes widened.

"What do you mean 'no gold'? How could there be no gold? The Spanish found gold quicker than I could swim across the bloody channel!" The Brit's tone got louder and louder before he realized he was causing a mental breakdown to the poor lad.

"I-I am so sorry, sir! I j-just came to tell you that they f-found nothing and half the l-land has already been dug up s-so much!" Milo placed his hands on his face in distress. "Please don't hit me, sir..."

Arthur opened his mouth and closed it. Regaining his composure, he looked down at the shorter man and said quietly, "I am sorry. I didn't mean to yell... I suppose I'm just stressed..." he paused, furrowing his brows. "Now, why would I hit you, Milo?"

The young Englishman glanced up from his hands, but remained quiet. The nation lowered his shoulders and clenched his jaw with realization.

"Has the governor been hitting you, Milo?" he asked in a monotone voice. The servant opened his mouth but no words came out. "Milo, I need you to tell me this – "

"The governor has been angry at you –!" he suddenly cried out. "He wants to find the nearest Indian and shoot it because he's been suspicious of your actions!"

Arthur stopped breathing.

"...sir..." Milo added softly. "I apologize for everything. If you'd like, I can tell him that you've been in your tent all day writing letters..." He looked at the ground and wiped sweat from his forehead.

"Y-yes..." Arthur stammered out, still in half shock. "Please, if you would... Thank you..."

Milo mumbled out another soft "sorry" and quickly walked away. The nation stepped back inside his tent and continued to breathe. "Dammit..." he cursed. With a few seconds of throwing a tantrum, Arthur sat back on his bed, leaning over to fall onto the practically-flat pillow. He closed his eyes and listened to the ocean echoing off the fort walls and the seagulls that squalled every minute. There was a loud flapping and a large object bounced off of the roof of the tent. Arthur sat up in alarm.

"What the...?" He got up from his bed and ran outside of the tent. Walking hastily around the corners, he saw what caused the clumsy encounter. "Kwahu!" he whispered, running over to the eagle. "What do you think you are doing, you daft bird!" He pet his feathered back and grabbed a piece of fabric that was rolled up and tied into a note. "What's this now?" He sat down and opened it up. Inside was a series of drawings, easily drawn out in order from left to right. Arthur chuckled, "Riddle me this, why don't you..."

While the nation was trying to figure out what the drawing meant, Kwahu picked at the ropes of the tent. On the fabric, there was a sketch of what seemed to be small tents, followed by a campfire. On the following line, there were many stick figures surrounding a tall tree along with two crescent moon shapes. Arthur smiled at Dyami's art and glanced at the eagle. "Is this his way of writing me?" he asked the bird, who plucked the fabric out of the Englishman's hands. Arthur looked up at the sky. "Tomorrow night, is that right?" The eagle flapped his wings and perched itself on the man's head. "Ow.. that does hurt... Alright, alright. Tell Dyami I said that I would be delighted..." he said.

Kwahu squalled and launched himself off of Arthur's head, soaring high into the air and turning towards the forest. If Arthur deciphered the message correctly... he'll be meeting a few more natives soon...

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	8. Learn to Join the Dance

**Gotta love it when hurricanes cancel school for a few days and you find a way to make your fanfics longer than you originally planned. **

**I have to say that this is one of my favorite chapters yet. So fluffy, so USUKy, so dkfa;dka in my opinion. I kept imagining the song "Look Through Heaven's Eyes" from the Prince of Egypt during the dance part, so if you want to imagine what I was imagining, feel free to listen to that while reading.  
>I couldn't decide when to end it, because I was so bored all day (I never changed out of pj's) and just typed this all today.<br>Everyone effected by the hurricane, (My state is getting hit with lots of wind and rain, but not as bad as some) Stay safe! I wish everyone a Happy Halloween, Belated Veterans' Day and so forth! Next update should be around Thanksgiving~! Please R&R!**

**(edit: The way it copied and pasted seemed weird, so I fixed it. Hopefully it's an easier read now)**

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><p>The sky was turning a deep copper and the clouds were a light violet. Laughter came from the young children that ran around the tribal camp carrying sticks and rocks to build up the fire that was slowly being raised. The men of the tribe chatted zestfully while tying up the drums and cutting the holes into their flutes. Meanwhile, the woman were quietly tittering to each other as they were preparing the food.<p>

Hiamovi looked over at his people and smiled, letting a long sigh slip out; Nuna came from the tent and rested her head on her husband's shoulder, eyes closed and hair tied into a loose bun – flowers weaved into the strands.

"Is something troubling you?" she asked faintly. Hiamovi looked down at her and chuckled, pushing a loose piece of hair behind her ear.

"Looking at all these young spirits... I feel so old," he replied, eyes glistening with humor. Nuna raised an eyebrow and smirked, slapping the man softly on the arm.

"Oh, quiet you. You make me feel like one thousand and two; you are not old, Dear." Hiamovi rolled his eyes and gestured to his face; Nuna caught on and shook her head. "Wrinkles come with wisdom –"

"Which explains why you don't have any!" He teased, kissing the nation's cheek. Nuna's mouth gaped and she let out a laugh that sounded like a young child's.

"I love you, Hia. Now stop being a tortoise and get ready; it's going to be a lovely night," she pecked his nose and pushed him into the tent.

Walking through the camp, Nuna looked up at the sky and frowned. She knew that the Europeans were currently destroying her lands – she felt it. She also knew that her son left the tribe often to spend time with one of them... the only reason why she never forbid it was because...

"Gaho~! Gaho!" Nuna turned around to see Dyami running towards her, beads that were dangling in his hair smacked his face as he stopped suddenly in front of where she was standing.

"Dyami, what is it? Is everything okay?" she asked, checking to make sure he wasn't hurt.

The boy breathed heavily, obviously he was running for quite some time. "Yes, well... yes, I'm fine... I just needed to ask you a few things before the celebration," he gasped out before straightening up and taking a deep breath.

Nuna chuckled and lifted herself on her tip-toes to reach her son's shoulders. Gently, she smoothed out his shirt and dusted off some leaves and dirt. "Okay, what do you need to ask?"

Dyami opened his mouth and paused, running a hand through his hair. "Um... well, I invited someone to join us tonight..." his voice trailed off as his mother lifted her chin.

"Is it that man?"

The immediate question made Dyami stutter in disbelief. "Y-you... You _knew_ about him?" he said, eyes wide while Nuna let out a soft, sighing-laugh. "How... How long have you known? Why didn't you say anything? Are you angry? You're not going to hurt him, are you? Mother, if this is a problem, I would like for you to –"

Nuna snapped her finger in front of his face and placed the other on his lips. "Child, be silent," she said. Dyami slowly nodded as an answer. "I knew since the foreign feet met our sand. I've been paying attention to what they were doing and what their intention is; and let me tell you Son, that they aren't going to find what they're looking for here. I have also been keeping an eye on you and the fellow that you accompany with, and..." She looked up at her son and pressed her lips together. "And although I am weary of this man – for he gives off a distinct aura to me... I have no trouble if you bring him tonight."

Dyami face suddenly lit up: his smile grew and his eyes glistened. "Oh thank you, Mother!" he wrapped his arms around her in a bear-hug and lifted her off the ground. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" he cheered.

Nuna looked up at the sky and whispered, "Please, Great Spirit, let this man not be one of them. For they bring destruction to life..."

Dyami set her down and kissed her forehead. "Thank you so much," he repeated. Without another word, he ran to his tent to change.

The Native-American nation pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. "That boy," she stated simply.

"He seems quite like the happy buffalo," a quiet voice came from behind her. Ahmik, already dressed in his celebration outfit, walked to stand by her shoulder. "Oh, and Mother, could you help me with something?"

Nuna turned to her other son. "Of course, Dearest... what is it?"

Ahmik held up the beaver, "Does Ghobi look better in yellow or red?"

Arthur walked through the grids of dug up holes that turned out to be empty and held no signs of gold. He looked towards the woods and could faintly see a gray line wiggling its way into the sky; smoke, to be precise. He thought about Dyami's message and immediately felt a shiver crawl up his spine. It wasn't like he was nervous about being surrounded by natives and possibly the personification of this land that could possibly be very angry and perhaps do untold things... nope, not nervous at all.

The Englishman sighed and stopped pacing around the dirt. "No need to be nervous, you are a bloody empire," he repeated to himself. "Yeah, an empire. You are an empire," he said, chuckling.

The fort was drowning in talking men. The smell of cooked deer and boiled fish floated around the area. Arthur casually walked through the doorway which two men were standing guard – not like they needed to. Every two to three tents had a campfire going between them, each were surrounded by six men who were either drinking the stashed beer, or gurgling down seawater as a joke.

Conner jogged up beside the Brit and smiled. "Good evening, sir. How are you doing?" His face was covered in sweat and dirt from working all day.

Arthur grinned and held out a handkerchief. "Fine, thanks. Here... your face is... well, you look like a child whose been rolling around in mud," he said, giving the Irishman the cloth. "Um, Conner, I'm going to be busy for the rest of the night and I wish not to be disturbed... do you mind warning the others?"

"No, not at all, sir. I bid you g'evening, then!" He nodded and hurried off to where most of the men were sitting.

The nation watched the crew for a moment, wondering how Dyami's people would compare. Looking out back towards the forest, he made his way to where he and the younger man would meet.

Dyami looked at his reflection in the river. His celebration clothes were always a bit too fancy for him; while deer skinned cloth was light and comfortable, adding layers of it in different patterns could make the body get toasty. He splashed his face with the cool water and finished rubbing the dust out of his hair.

Arthur rounded the corner of rocks and spotted the boy in his attire. "Don't you look fancy," he said with a smile.

Dyami stood up and grinned. "You made it! Great! I was worried that the letter confused you... I know I haven't really taught you how to read it correctly, so I was just hoping it would be easy to understand." His eyes trailed up and down the Brit's figure. "Hmm... I hope I judged your size right," he mumbled to himself.

"To be honest with you..." he paused, "I'm a bit insecure about meeting your... tribe," Arthur exclaimed. Dyami raised his brow and chuckled.

"Don't be! They're like my giant family – they _are_ my family. I told my mother and she agreed to welcome you in!" His smile grew as Arthur began to follow him through the woods. "And my father.. haha, don't be taken back by his voice – which is so deep, a stampede could occur! – he's extremely kind and wise. Oh! And you'll get to meet my brother too! I'm sure he'd be glad to meet you, although he's quiet and all, but he's nice and –" Dyami went on and on.

Arthur smiled at the excitement in the boy's voice. He really enjoyed the time they spent together whenever they could. Dyami quieted down as voices and laughter echoed around them; Arthur gripped Dyami's shoulder. "Are you sure we should do this? I mean... what if something goes wrong?" he asked, peeking back and forth from the opening in the trees to Dyami's brown eyes.

"Everything will be fine! Trust me, I won't let anything ruin it. Listen, it's just a celebration of Autumn. We're going to eat, dance, and tell stories; no harm in that, right?"

Arthur nodded. "Right... okay."

The native grinned. "Let's hope you've been studying my language... or you'll get lost so fast." Dyami linked his fingers with Arthur's and led him into the clearing. The Brit stared down at the hand and bit down on his tongue.

The children were first to spot them as they walked slowly into the camp. One girl, around seven years old, ran up to them while the others stood and gawked at the white man.

"Dyami-Yuma!" she shouted, hugging his leg. Dyami bent down and picked her up with his free arm and brought her up to his shoulder. She looked at Arthur and pursed her lips. "Who is the sun-colored haired man?" she asked, reaching out and poking the Englishman's hair. Arthur silently laughed.

"This is my friend, Arthur! He's not from here, but I invited him to come. Arthur, this is Amitola. Her mother is one of the head seamstresses," Dyami explained.

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Amitola," Arthur replied, shaking the little girl's hand with his index finger and thumb. Amitola smiled and giggled.

"He talks funny," she said between her laughter. "Dyami-Yuma, how do you like my dress? Mommy sewed it this morning!" She let herself down off of his shoulder and twirled around. "Do you like it? Do you?"

"It's beautiful! Your mother is amazing; tell her I said hello and congratulations on her newborn, okay?" he said as the girl nodded vigorously and ran off. Arthur looked at Dyami and blinked.

"That was adorable," he dumbly stated. Dyami returned the look and bit his lip as he smiled. Another kid cautiously walked up to them.

"Hello, Shiye," Dyami said, looking down at the young teenaged boy. His hair was tied back into a warrior's braid.

Shiye silently looked from Dyami to Arthur and lifted his chin up. "You guys getting married?" he asked seriously. Dyami's face paled while Arthur was thrown into a coughing fit.

"Go back to your father, Shiye," Dyami said in monotone, closing his eyes.

The teen crossed his arms. "What did I do? I just asked a question that the group was having..." he looked between the two men and raised his shoulders. "Whatever, okay," he replied, turning on his heels.

Arthur cleared his throat and put his hand on his chest. "Well that was something," he said, feeling the pounding of his heart. Dyami nodded awkwardly and shook it off. They continued to walk into the circle of chatting adults, each grew silent as they caught sight of the Brit. Dyami felt the grip on his hand squeeze.

"Has anyone seen Hiamovi –" the half-nation asked loudly before a powerful voice overwhelmed it.

"Dyami, my boy!" Hiamovi came through the crowd of people and outstretched his arms to trap both his son and guest in a tight hug. "This must be the man of the hour!" He looked over Arthur as if judging him; Arthur sneaked a peak at Dyami who was slapping his forehead in embarrassment. "A frail, little man, aren't you?" Hiamovi casually stated. Arthur looked up at the taller in slight shock, no words forming from his mouth.

"Father," Dyami groaned. "You're suffocating him, jeez!" His father let the two boys breathe and let out a chuckle. "Arthur, this is my father and chief, Hiamovi," he told Arthur in English. The tribal natives stared at Dyami in awe and confusion at the words he said.

Arthur held out his hand and cleared his throat. "It's an honour to meet you, sir. Your son has told me about you..."

Hiamovi nodded his head and replied, "Fascinating.. you do sound as odd as they say..." Arthur retreated his hand and looked plainly at Dyami, who, if he could, would be slapping his face with a boulder. "Come now, we've been expecting you!" A young woman walked up to the chief and handed him a folded piece of clothing. Hiamovi thanked her and took it, unwrapping it and throwing it over Arthur's head. The Brit looked down at the shawl and all of its colors, beads, and feathers.

"I... I don't know what to say..." he mumbled, taking the gift in.

"You don't have to say anything; it's a custom that we give the friends we care about gifts," Dyami said, adjusting the top. "I hope you're hungry, we're having a feast tonight." He smiled.

Nuna stared at the white man, jaw clenched. "So it is you..." she whispered quietly.

Arthur sat next to Dyami and Ahmik as the food was passed around. Everyone was talking and laughing and sharing stories to each other as the sun was setting in the sky. Dyami continued to throw food at his brother's face and blaming it on the oldest man in the village for not being able to control where he puts his food. When Dyami wasn't looking, Ahmik would toss something back and act like nothing happened. This went on for quite some time.

The Brit looked around the large circle at all the faces of the tribe; all smiling faces that were welcoming and happy that Arthur was here. He scanned the area and spotted one woman across the circle that was staring at him with challenging eyes. Arthur gulped down his food and leaned over to whisper in Dyami's ear. "Who's that woman right there?"

Dyami swallowed the food in his mouth and followed Arthur's gaze. "Oh, that's Nuna, my mother." He glanced at Arthur. "Why are you asking?"

"She's staring at me rather intensely..." he mumbled, nibbling on another potato. Dyami met Nuna's eyes and she looked away, talking to a woman beside her.

"... I guess that was pretty weird... but I'm sure everything is fine," he said, patting Arthur on the back. Arthur continued to look at Nuna until she didn't make eye contact again.

As Hiamovi stood up, the conversations began to die down. Arthur looked around at the silent tribe and wished his meetings would quiet down as fast as this just did.

"My friends, tonight we are celebrating the passing of another successful summer and the welcoming of new adventures this autumn. We are also happy to have new friends this day as well," he said, smiling at Arthur. A dozen pairs of eyes were now staring at the Brit as he blushed and nodded his head in a `thank you` gesture. Ahmik got up and grabbed a bowl that had a light blue color in it; paint. He sat down next to Arthur and dipped three fingers into the bowl and then dotted them underneath each of Arthur's eyes.

Ahmik then walked up to his father with a bowl full of red paint and handed it to him. Hiamovi nodded and thanked his son. "We can never forget the first step to growing into a man," he talked loudly. Dyami took a deep breath and looked at his father with knowing eyes. "Tonight we celebrate the beginning of a journey and the ending of another..." he looked at Dyami and waved him up.

Arthur watched as Dyami stood up and walked over to stand next to his father, who seemed to tower over him. "My son," the man said quieter. "I've watched you grow over many years. You are strong-willed and a free spirit; I am proud to see you as you are today." He placed two fingers in the bowl and traced them horizontally on Dyami's cheek and then one down the arc of his nose. Dyami pressed his lips together and closed his eyes. Hiamovi leaned down and whispered into his ear. Arthur watched as Dyami's face lit up like a child's when they get a toy. He nodded eagerly and broke into a grin.

"What did he say?" Arthur leaned over to Ahmik, who sat back down to watch.

Ahmik smiled and replied softly, "He probably asked him if he wanted to wear his headdress for tonight since Dyami's isn't suppose to be worn until he's fully chief. Hiamovi is the one who usually wears it during celebrations, but our father is very kind and he knows how much Dyami loves the thing. When we were younger, he used to sneak into our parents' hut and take it."

Arthur chuckled as he imagined Dyami when he was a small child. Hiamovi walked out of the tent with his headdress and the tribe began to call out and cheer. Dyami was laughing and bobbing up and down on his heels. As the chief placed it on his son's head, the drums and music began to play as people got up from the ground and danced. Arthur saw Dyami hug his father and be lifted up by the man before making his way through the circles of dances.

"Hey, Yancy, dance with me!" He shouted over the music. Arthur looked up and snorted.

"Yancy? Is that what I'm called now?" He laughed and looked around. While the kids were holding hands and spinning in circles, the adults were forming a ring around the fire and dancing in a formation that they all seemed to know. Arthur looked back at Dyami and shook his head. "I don't know how!" He called out. Dyami opened his mouth to protest, but was grabbed by the arm by his brother and pulled out to the circle.

Arthur crisscrossed his legs and watched the tribe jump and twirl to the pounding of the drums and chanted words as the flute echoed throughout the camp. Several children ran up to Arthur and twisted beads and feathers into his hair, calling him `friend`, `yancy`, and even `brother`. Amitola came around and set a traditional headband on his head and kissed his cheek before running away to her mother. Dyami, even though dancing, watched his family as they treated Arthur like their own. Arthur was blushing and smiling and happier than he'd ever seen him before.

"Dyami," Ahmik said as they jumped to the music. "You're crying." Dyami looked at his brother and wiped his eye.

"I guess I was staring at the fire for too long," he joked as they twirled around. Ahmik stared at him and frowned. As the drumming slowed down, he grabbed Dyami's arm and pulled him to the side.

"I pulled you away from him, didn't I?" he asked shamefully. Dyami shrugged and played with a feather on the headdress. Ahmik pouted and rubbed the back of his neck. "I guess I'm just so used to dancing these songs with you – I forgot we have a guest whose never been..." They both were now staring at Arthur who was clapping lightly to the music and the children who were dancing around him.

As the flute rang loudly through the air, Dyami and Ahmik made eye-contact and smiled. They ran and jumped between people and danced through the circling rings as they made their way to Arthur. The Englishman looked up with surprise as Dyami held out his hand.

"Dance with me," he said again. The music shifted and Ahmik jumped up and down for the ending song.

Arthur glanced around and sighed. "I don't know how to do it!"

"You don't have to! We'll show you how!" Dyami pulled Arthur up by his arm.

"But –"

Hiamovi came behind them and pushed them all into the circle just as the singing rose, "Learn to join the dance, boy!"

"~Nenilainaȵenilaȇh~" the people repeated as they wrapped their arms around each other as the music slowly began to pick up its pace. Arthur felt Dyami's and Ahmik's arms wrap around his shoulders and he did the same, watching in awe as his feet were following the steps everyone did and shuffled in the dirt when the beating was faster.

For a moment, everything was silent and still; Arthur thought the song had ended before a loud bang of the drum and everyone split into single dancing. Dyami grabbed Arthur's waist with one hand and his own hand with the other. The Briton let out a single laugh and he and the native twirled to the song and jumped to the beat; Dyami's eyes never left the blond as they danced.

Nuna watched her son dance with the nation from a distance. Her frown deepened and she let out a short sigh. Her husband approached her and followed her gaze. "They look so happy, don't they?"

"That's what I'm worried about..." she replied.

Hiamovi shook his head and took her hands, rocking them back and forth to the music. "Don't be worried; it's a blessing," he said. She stayed quiet and looked at the ground.

"I just don't want him to get hurt, that's all... Nations and love... they don't mix well..." she said into his chest. Hiamovi chuckled.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" Nuna peered back up and rolled her eyes.

"Not us, silly. I've known you since forever..." she scoffed.

Hiamovi twirled her around, and kissed her head. "Let the Great Spirit guide them the way they should go. You can't stop the wind from blowing, Nuna."

As the last song ended, Dyami and Arthur slowed their dancing to a stop and listened to the people cheer. Arthur looked up at the boy and silently nodded his head. Dyami blushed and adjusted the headdress that was slightly too big for his head;Arthur laughed and helped him fit the decoration.

Dyami examined Arthur's face and smiled. "The look suits you," he said, referring to the paint and the beads and feathers adorning the European's hair.

Arthur touched the headband and laughed. "You think so? Maybe this should be the regular look," he joked. Dyami chuckled and looked at the fire that the people were sitting around once again – wrapping blankets around themselves as the cooler autumn air settled in.

"Oh, let me get us a blanket!" Dyami said as he jogged to a tent, pulling out a wool blanket and walking back to Arthur. "Here we go!" They sat down and Dyami proceeded to wrap the blanket around both of them, holding his breath when Arthur scooted closer. He looked up to see his brother flash him two thumbs up and a kissy face. Dyami blushed and stuck out his tongue before Hiamovi moved to the center of the group, leading the men to bring a large tent over them and tie it to the ground. Arthur cocked his head.

"What are they doing?" he asked.

"It's the time where my father tells stories. It could go on for a while, so we set up a hut so the children who fall asleep can rest without being woken up when the stories end," Dyami replied, leaning over as a man came and quickly tapped the wooden pole into the ground beside them.

"As the moon continuous to rise, we settle down. Are there any requests on a story tonight?" he asked calmly. His voice was soft now, almost like a hum. He looked around the tribe and smiled when a petite girl raised her hand. "Yes, Doli... what story?"

"Can you tell us about why some trees lose their pretty leaves, but every year the pine trees look the same?" she asked quietly. Hiamovi nodded and took a deep breath.

_"__In the early times, the trees and animals were always able to talk to one another. They lived close to each other and shared many things; but every year, the cold time came and the birds would fly south to where it remained warm and would return with their families in the spring, when the warm season returned. _

_"__One year, as the cold season approached, Sparrow was injured. He would not be strong enough to fly to the warm lands with his family by himself, so he made his family fly south to the warm lands without him._

_"__Injured, he knew he would not survive the cold season. So he sought the help the trees. He approached Oak. '"Oh, Oak, I am injured, and cannot fly, the cold season approaches, and if I do not find shelter before then, surely I shall die. Please, Oak, let me shelter among your leaves and branches during the cold times, that I may heal and greet my family on their return in the spring."'  
><em>

_"But Oak was a crusty old tree, and did not relish the idea of having a guest in the cold time, so he told sparrow: '"Sparrow, go find somewhere else to spend the cold time. I do not wish you to spend the cold time with me."'  
><em>

_"And poor Sparrow was hurt in his spirit to be turned away.  
><em>

_"So Sparrow went to Maple and asked her. '"Maple, I am hurt and not able to fly to the warm lands with my family for the cold season. Please let me shelter among your leaves and branches during the cold time, or surely I will perish."' And Maple, though a very sweet tree, did not enjoy the thought of a guest for the cold time and she too, turned Sparrow away. '"You,.. you go ask someone else to shelter you, Sparrow. I do not wish you to spend the cold time with me."'  
><em>

_"And again, hurt in spirit, Sparrow was turned away.  
><em>

_"Sparrow went in turn to each of the trees and asked each for shelter in the cold time; and each, and every time, Sparrow was turned away... until there was no tree left to ask, except Pine.  
><em>

_"With no hope left, but not willing to accept death...Sparrow approached Pine.  
><em>

_'"Pine, I am injured, and not able to fly south to the warm lands with my family. If I do not find shelter before the cold time, I will surely perish. Please... let me shelter among your leaves and branches during the cold time..."'  
><em>

_"Pine thought to himself, ("I am the least of the trees, what can I do?") ...but his heart heard Sparrow's plight. '"Sparrow... My leaves are tiny... more like needles... my branches are not as many as other trees... but what I have you are welcome to share."'  
><em>

_"And so, Sparrow spent the cold time with Pine. And when the warm times returned in the spring, Sparrow's family returned also. And Sparrow had healed over the cold time and flew to greet their return..  
><em>

_"Creator had seen and heard all that had happened between Sparrow and the Trees. And Creator called a great council of the Trees and spoke to them... '"You, who were given so much..., who had so much, would not share the least of what you had with Sparrow in his need. Because of this.., from this day forward, when the cold time is upon the land, your leaves shall wither and die and blow away."' Creator then spoke to Pine. '"Pine, you, who had the least of all the trees, gave so much, have touched my Spirit. When the cold times come, You of all the trees shall keep your leaves they shall remain green through all the seasons for the gift you have given me, through Sparrow."'  
><em>

_"And that is why, to this day, that when the cold time comes to the land, all the leaves wither, and die, and blow away... Except for Pine."_ Hiamovi ended his story by throwing a pine cone at the girl, who caught it and laughed. "Any other requests?" He turned around the room and raised his brow when Ahmik raised his hand. "Is this the story that I think you're thinking?" he asked with a grin.

"No!... Yes..." Ahmik mumbled out. Dyami chuckled to himself and glanced at his brother.

"Just tell it, Father," he called out. "Let's here about the Sky Tree for the sixtieth time!" Ahmik chucked one of the pine cones at him before snuggling with Ghobi.

Hiamovi rolled his eyes and looked up. "Yes, yes. Very well..."

Arthur was thinking about the way the natives view things and found it very comforting; they relied on nature and loved the earth. He quietly yawned and unconsciously rested his head on Dyami's shoulder. Dyami himself glanced down at the Brit and smiled before looking back up at his father as he began the story of The Sky Tree.

"_In the beginning, Earth was covered in water. In Sky Land, there were people living as we do now on Earth. In the middle of that land was the great Sky Tree. All the food which the people ate, came from that tree.  
><em>

_"The old chief of that land lived with his wife in their long house near the great tree. It came to be that the old chief became sick, and nothing could cure him. He grew weaker and weaker until it seemed he may die. Then a dream came to him, and he called his wife to him.  
><em>

_"'''I have dreamed,''' he said, '''and in my dream, I saw how I can be healed. I must be given the fruit that grows at the top of the Sky Tree. You must cut it down and bring that fruit to me.'''  
><em>

_"The wife took her husband's stone ax and went to the great tree. As soon as she struck it, it split in half and toppled over. As it fell, a hole opened up in Sky Land, and the tree fell through the hole. The wife returned to the place where the old chief waited.  
><em>

_"'''My husband, when I cut the tree, it split in half and then fell through a great hole. Without the tree, there will be no life. I must follow it.''' Then, leaving her husband, she went back to the hole in Sky Land and threw herself after the tree.  
><em>

_"As she fell, Turtle looked up and saw her. Immediately, Turtle called together all the water animals and told them what she had seen.  
><em>

_"'''What should be done?''' Turtle said. Beaver replied to her, '''You are the one who saw this happen, tell us what to do.''' Turtle then answered, '''All of you must dive down and bring up soil from the bottom and place it on my back.'''  
><em>

_"Immediately, all of the water animals began to dive down and bring up soil. Beaver, Mink, Muskrat, and Otter each brought up pawfuls of wet soil and placed it on Turtle's back until they had made an island of great size. When they were through, the wife settle gently on the new Earth, and the pieces of the Sky Tree fell beside her and took root._" As Hiamovi ended the story, many people in the tent had fallen asleep. He smiled and nodded to few that were still awake as they made their way out of the great tent, thanking him. Ahmik laid on the floor with his polar bear skin-blanket covering him and Ghobi crawled up on his stomach; Nuna wrapped her arms around his and rested her head on.

"Wonderful storyteller, as always," she whispered.

"Wonderful at putting people to sleep apparently too," he chuckled, looking around. "Dearest..." he said quietly, moving her gaze to the two boys in the corner.

Arthur had fallen asleep on Dyami's shoulder while the native was using the headdress as a pillow to support himself as he fell asleep sitting up with his mouth slightly ajar.

Nuna covered her mouth with a hand and put the other to her heart. "Oh my..." she whispered. "We can't just leave them here..." she said, turning to Hiamovi who shook his head and replied, "Let them be."

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	9. Every Kiss Begins With K

**Happy Thanksgiving everyone! I was at my aunt's house when I wrote the second half of this (blasting music because she was screaming. I hope everyone had a better day than I did!)  
>Since I was desperate to upload, I cut it short. Hopefully the next update will come sooner. (I'm watching Football at the moment... Patriots are kicking butt, whoop whoop)<br>Enjoy the sappy fluff!**

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><p>Conner opened his tent's door and looked up at the gray sky. Clouds were rolling in from the east and small droplets of rain were falling in uneven patterns. The seagulls lined up on the ships mast and cawed to every dip the great boat made as the waves rocked it back and forth. The Irishman yawned, taking his time to pull on his shoes and throw a hat on. Only a few men were up and working – most were by the fire, which was withering out to ashes. Conner blew a strand of hair from his vision and walked to the barrels where they kept the fresh water. Using his hands, he reached in and splashed his face in one fluid motion. To his disappointment, the liquid was lukewarm.<p>

"Gah... We can never get decent water in the morning, can't we?" he mumbled out to a passing crew member. "What's got you up so early?"

The tanned skinned man scratched his chin. "The governor's tent is right by mine," he started, "he's been yapping all night to himself or somethin'. That man is mad if you ask me." He walked to the barrel and touched the water with his index finger. "Damn, yer right... You should fill them up then so the whole camp won't complain when they wake."

Conner rubbed the back of his head and sighed. "I guess you're right," he said, picking up the barrel. "I'll be back for the other later." He and the man nodded their goodbye and walked away; the ginger looked out towards the forest. An Indian hasn't really been spotted, but they sure were heard – a few fellows who were out drinking by the fire late apparently heard calls and shouts, but nobody was really sure. To be honest, he didn't know what he would do if he spotted one...

Arthur was latching on to the warmth that came from his young friend. The rain slowly started to pour faster and bounced off the hut that many people of the tribe slept in. During the night, Dyami had lowered himself so that they were laying on the floor with the buffalo-skinned blanket covering them. The Brit moved around in his sleep so that his head was resting on the native's bicep – using it as a pillow. In turn, Dyami wrapped that arm around the man and held him to his side like a puppy.

Ahmik leaned over the two along with three other young girls and smiled. He nodded to one of the girls and took a blue blanket from her hands; she covered her mouth to stop from giggling. Laying the blanket over the two sleeping boys, he quietly said, "May the sun bring you new energies by day,  
>May the moon softly restore you by night, May the rain wash away any worries you may have, And the breeze blow new strength into your being, And then, all the days of your life, May you walk gently through the world, and know its beauty and yours..."<p>

The brother bit back a snicker as he took the white blanket from the other girl and covered the blue. One of the woman had to leave the tent so she could let out her laughter. Ahmik stood up dramatically and spoke louder:"I now pronounce you man and husband, you may kiss the beaver!" He gently dropped Ghobi on Dyami's chest and took four steps back.

Dyami shot up from the floor and stared at his brother, who was laughing so hard, he was snorting. Arthur fell from the native's arm and hit the ground with a thud, opening his eyes to see a very flustered boy who was looking at the blue and white blankets that were newly added on top of them.

"What's going on?" he asked, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. Dyami's face turned completely red and he pushed the blankets away with embarrassment.

"It's... it's nothing," he mumbled out. He glanced back up at Ahmik and sighed; the brother took a few moments and calmed his laughter, picking Ghobi up again.

"I would say that I was sorry," Ahmik started, "but I'm not." Dyami gathered up the blankets and threw them to his twin. "Ack –! Jeez, no need to be so rough..." He balanced the fabric in one arm while the beaver crawled its way to his shoulder and bent down to pat Arthur's shoulder with his spare hand. "It was a pleasure meeting you; may you and your husband live merrily together."

Dyami pushed his brother's legs and stood up. "Oh,go jump off a mountain or something..." Ahmik rolled his eyes and left the tent, blowing kisses and hooting. The native walked to the center of the space and turned back to face Arthur. He rubbed his face, only for the red paint from the night before to stain his palms. "... I need a bath..." he mumbled.

Arthur blinked and grinned. "That was... quite the moment," he chuckled. Standing up, he patted off the dust and dirt that covered his legs. The blue dotted paint that decorated his cheekbones were smudged and now looked like blotches of aqua colored blood. Dyami took two steps and licked his thumb, rubbing it over the Brit's cheek. Arthur stayed silent, studying the taller's expression.

Dyami pressed his lips together, eyebrows lowered in thought as he looked into green eyes that reminded him of the first day of Spring where the grass is sparkling and lush. The native felt the heat spread from his cheeks to his ears. Arthur leaned into his hand and licked his own thumb, rubbing it gently over the red streaks. Dyami closed one eye as the Brit brushed away the smudged paint from his face, smiling when the other began to unnecessarily tuck his hair behind his ears.

"A-arthur..." he quietly murmured, caressing the blond's face now, leaning down and resting his forehead on his hair.

"Yes?" Arthur breathlessly replied, tilting his head up, slowly wrapping his hands around the other's neck. Dyami swallowed and lifted his head up, hovering in front of Arthur's face. He could feel his heart beating quickly against his chest and his breath shortening. Arthur's mouth twitched into a small smile as he felt the boy's nervousness. "It's okay..." he whispered, pulling himself up to lock his lips to the other's.

Dyami – half in ecstasy, half in shock – moved his lips to Arthur's, letting him take the lead. The Brit gripped the native's hair as he dominated the kiss, carefully rocking back on his toes and breaking their lips. He slowly opened his eyes and watched as Dyami hesitatingly opened his; he chucked as the younger had to look away.

"That was, um.. good... You did... good," he said in broken English, lowering his hands. Arthur raised an eyebrow and untangled his fingers from the boy's hair. .

"Yes, thank you... You too..." he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. Dyami let out a low, long whistle, looking around the room before turning to face Arthur again.

"So, um... how 'bout that bath?"

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	10. Who Puts the Rainbow in the Sky?

***Punches Writer's Block in the face* Sorry guys! I started writing the first few sentences a couple days ago, but then I realized that I was just rewriting the same sentence over and over again. But last night I watched Pocahontas - because that's what I do when I can't think of anything. So now, after blasting Josh Groban and cuddling up in my bed while refusing to eat dinner (it's 8pm at the moment), I threw it together. Speaking of Josh Groban... I always daydreamed of Dyami singing "Galileo" to Arthur... *sigh*... too cute. You should find it on Youtube and listen to it when you read; FEEL THE CUTENESS. A/N continues at the bottom because spoilers.**

* * *

><p>"You never told me what your brother did that made you... throw a tantrum," Arthur said, musing. He lifted himself over a fallen tree and continued chasing after Dyami – who was practically floating from walking so fast through the woodsy autumn forest.<p>

Dyami turned his head and opened his mouth, raising a finger to reply, but nothing came. He closed his hand and clicked his teeth together, letting a long "err" draw out. "Well," he said, slowing his pace to a stop; Arthur stopped next to him and peeked up to the younger.

"_Well?_" he repeated when Dyami didn't say anything more. "Surely you have a reason... after all, that was the most pale-faced I've seen you yet!" He jabbed his finger at the boy's chest and began to tease him, "You obviously were flustered. Am I _that_ attractive?" he said, lightly putting his pinkie finger to his mouth and began to obnoxiously blink.

Dyami covered his face with his hand. "Oh please, stop that..." he muttered, peaking through his fingers. Arthur looked at him and began swaying his hips – a smug smile forming on his face. "Arthur, stop it..." he choked down to a whisper, face beginning to burn up. But alas, the Brit continued to mock him – _maybe enjoying more than mocking France!... No... That could never happen._

The Englishman grinned when Dyami had to turn away. Mission Accomplished. "Well, as out of character as that was for me... I rather enjoyed that..." He walked ahead of the native and turned around. Dyami lifted his head from his hands and raised an eyebrow in puzzlement. "I was only teasing; you don't have to tell me. I figured out what it was," he stated.

That caught him off guard. "You.. you know? What... um... is it..." Dyami could not form words in this situation. _"Thanks for nothing, Spirit," _he thought to himself.

The rushing of water echoed through the bare trees, sending the cool wind with it. Arthur turned his head to face the direction of the river and took the feathered headband off of his head, hanging it on a nearby branch. Dyami followed him with his eyes and tilted his head as the blond returned to him and grabbed his arm. "Come on then, _hubby_," he said, dragging the bamboozled boy through the bushes. They came to the familiar river that was now crystal clear as the temperature was dropping.

Dyami pressed his lips together, looking around to the opposite side of a stream that connected to the river just a few yards away. While Arthur knelt down and began scrubbing his face with his hands, the native sneaked away – hopping over the stream to reach where Ahmik and he placed their canoes. Using one hand, he gripped the ledge and pulled it off the shore and into the water. The river pricked his skin, but went unnoticed. Dyami grinned as he stepped into the boat and grabbed the ore, pushing the canoe in to current.

"Arthur!" he called, sticking the ore deep into the water, causing the small boat to turn. Arthur glanced up and blinked, letting the water in his hands drop. "How about we go somewhere else for a change?"

The Englishman chuckled softly and stood back up. "You," he began, "never cease to surprise me." Quickly treading through the water, he hopped on the canoe, sending it to the right. Dyami, in turn, grabbed his wrist and sat him down in front. The canoe rocked back and forth until the ore was pulled from the sand and the current softly pulled them downstream. "Where does it lead to?" Arthur asked, squinting his eyes to the horizon.

Dyami smiled and put his arms around the Brit – whether to row better or not – and rested his chin on the messy blond hair. "Who knows?" he said, paddling forward.

"You know."

"I do, yes..."

"... You're a brat, do you know that?" Arthur tilted his head back and stared into Dyami's brown eyes. The other chuckled and pressed his nose to Arthur's.

"Maybe I do. I'm not sure," he teased back. The Brit rolled his eyes and moved his head to face forward. The trees hung over the river like tall bridges – like back in London. Arthur lowered his shoulders and sighed through his nose, leaning back into Dyami's chest. The brunette's smile slightly faded. With hopes of cheering the older up, he looked over the edge of the canoe and reached into the water with a hand. Letting it trail along the sand, he felt for any rocks. As his finger grazed a smooth, hard stone, he pulled it from the water and gave it to Arthur. "Here," he said, "throw it."

Arthur stared at the flat rock and took it. "Throw it?" Dyami nodded and slowed the boat down. "Just... throw it?" he asked again.

"Chuck it at the sky, throw it to the water... heck, throw it at me if you want to!" he replied. "Just not in the face please." He laughed softly, sitting back in the canoe. Arthur blinked and gripped the rock; pressing his lips together, he stood up and hummed it. If Dyami wasn't half-nation, he would of said the stone just disappeared, but it flew through the air at a startling speed and finally splashed into the water farther than any human could have thrown it. "Wow," he whistled, not expecting the latter.

Arthur slowly sat back down and cleared his throat. "That was... I feel better... thanks," he said, nodding his head. Dyami rubbed the back of his neck and clicked his teeth together, letting out a breathy laugh. The two sat in silence for a while, listening to the birds and sightseeing the animals that came to the rivers edge. Fish swam under the canoe and some jumped over banks; a loud, but muffled roar snapped both of them from their trance.

"What was that?" Arthur asked, sitting upright. The canoe started passing large rocks that stood out of the rushing water. "Dyami, why are we speeding up? Why aren't you answering me? Why do you have that smug grin on your face?"

It was true Dyami was smugly grinning. He loved going west of the river, it was exciting and made his heart beat fast; it was also one of the only things that made him feel like he was flying. Arthur turned back to the source of the loud noise and gripped the edges of the canoe.

"Bloody hell!" he shouted. "We're going to bloody fall!" The water rushed over the cliff and fell into a large, clear lake – mist rose upward and reflected a rainbow over the body of water. "You – you knew you were rowing us to a waterfall, didn't you?"

"I said I did, didn't I?" Dyami said, his eyes full of mischief. Glancing up, Kwahu flew over them, squalling as he himself dove down the cliff alongside them. The native pulled the ore out of the water and raised it into the sky, letting the strong current drag them over the edge of the falls. Arthur slammed his back into Dyami's chest and closed his eyes, feeling his body being lifted out of the boat and his fingers digging into the canoe's wooden edge. Dyami kept his hands in the air and eyes wide open, leaning forward against the force of the fall. Kwahu tucked his wings into his body and free fell the hundred feet with them before opening them up and catching the wind.

The canoe slammed into the misty water, but stayed upright as Dyami steered it cleverly with the ore. Arthur dropped back into his lap and opened one eye. "Are you still breathing?" he asked quietly as the current of the water stopped. Dyami shook his head with a smile and chuckled.

"Still breathing," he answered. The lake itself was in a large clearing, the sun had all its time to warm the water more than the river. Peeking over the sides of the canoe for rocks, Dyami put his hands on top of Arthur's and slowly leaned over to one side.

"What... what are you doi –?" the Englishman tried to ask before the canoe was flipped over, sending both of them into the lake. Arthur immediately began drastically swimming to the surface – a captain's instinct, regardless of the saying that they always go down with their ship. When he was finally able to gasp for air, he rubbed the water from his eyes and opened them to darkness. Great, he was under the boat. Holding his breath, he plunged back under and pulled the canoe over his head and flipped it back over, climbing over the edge. Looking around, he noted that he was in the middle of the lake and the ore was floating a few meters away. "This is just fantastic..." he sat down and blinked. "... Dyami?" he called out. No answer. With a little more worry, he shouted again, "Dyami?" He heard a splash before he was propelled back into the water, face first.

He saw a blurred dark figure swim to him under the water; as it got closer, he could make out Dyami's wide grin. Arthur felt the hand on his waist as they both swam back up to the surface. The Brit coughed out the water that he swallowed unintentionally. Dyami bit on his tongue as he watched with guilty humor. "I'm sorry," he said. "It was the perfect opportunity..." He began to back away as Arthur turned to him – his green eyes piercing with a mix of embarrassment and revenge. "Arthur... what... what are you doing with the ore? Artie, I –!" he ducked under the surface as the Brit slammed the ore down on the water. It made a loud slap that echoed throughout the clearing.

"Y-you bastard! I thought you were hurt!" Arthur shouted when Dyami peeked his head out of the water. "Don't you ever do that to me again! How could –" he was pulled back underwater when Dyami launched himself at him. The two wrestled through the lake, underwater longer than an average human could have been.

Kwahu watched from a tree branch as the couple broke the surface once more, gasping for air, hands tangled in each others hair and clothing. Dyami's chest rose and fell hard as he sucked in for breath; Arthur softly breathed and looked back at the native. His dark hair was plastered to his head, with that one strand still defying physics and stuck up.

When they both calmed their lungs and Dyami was able to touch the sandy bottom without his head going under, they waded there. Arthur had his arms wrapped around the others neck seeing that he couldn't touch the bottom at all – when he could, the water would swallow him up. Dyami quietly chuckled and touched his forehead to Arthur's.

"Now where do I remember this from?" he whispered.

Arthur laughed lightly and closed his eyes. "I'm not sure... enlighten me," he replied. Dyami's cheeks turned pink from the invitation, but nevertheless, he lifted Arthur from his hips and wrapped his arms around the Brit's thighs, locking his hands together while pressing his lips to the others. Arthur trailed his hands down the native's neck and shoulders before gripping his hair. Dyami fought hard to dominant the kiss, pushing his head up to press their lips harder; Arthur smiled into the kiss and wrapped his legs loosely around Dyami's waist.

Connor dropped the barrels he was carrying as he watched from the shore.

Ѿ Ѿ Ѿ

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><p><strong>AN Cont: Okay! Dun dun dunnn, I needed to bring Connor back because I forgot that he went off to get water for the camp! Whoopsie! I also threw Kwahu in there because reasons. Okay! Now that I have your attention... I have a little question! I could go two different directions with this fic and I need a vote on what path to go! Here are your options! 1.) Make Arthur go back to England for a few years... he'll come back when the colonists begin to travel to the New World and the story will continue from there for a few more chapters. or 2.) Keep Arthur here, but the fic will probably end sooner.  
>So there you go! Just leave option 1 or 2 in a review! Have a Merry Christmas and Happy New Years guys! Hanukkah too! And any other holiday you celebrate!<strong>


	11. Interruption

**Ughhhh *throws self off Earth* Okay, this would have to be the worst Block yet. So sorry for the late update; and with such a small chapter too - literally only one page on OpenOffice - but I needed something quick to get me back in the groove of things and I really felt bad for not updating in my usual monthly mark. **

**I hope to finish this fic before I head up to Maine in June, after school ends... I want to start my novel that I had been planning since 8th grade and I need to rewrite it... But I head to Europe for the first time a couple days after I get back home from Maine and aaahh. 2013 is the year for travelling. SOO this fanfic should be finished by early June, maybe even late May before I go to Anime Boston. **

**So once again, sorry for the late update and short chapter! Since it's vacation, I should have time to update again this week (maybe) in between my projects! **

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><p>Now Connor was used to having Arthur leave the camp and not return for quite some time; he had his suspicions, but seeing what was unfolding before him was rather overwhelming. Arthur had been snogging the other man like it was his job; the water could have been evaporating with the tension between the two. Connor lowered himself to the ground and collected the barrels back into his hands as fast as he could, trying to mentally push out the blithe noises that were coming from the water. With a quick heave, he picked up the water-filled barrels and held his breath, watching carefully as Arthur pulled away from the taller male. His cheery face seemed to falter and the blond turned his gaze to the shore.<p>

The native stared at Arthur with curiosity and followed his gaze. "What is it? You alright?" he asked in rather perfect English. Connor raised an eyebrow in how long these two were actually spending time together.

Arthur lowered himself to the ground and glanced back at Dyami. "I think," he said, "there's someone watching us..." He quietly waded through the water and scanned the trees, not knowing if it was a native or a crewman. Dyami pressed his lips together and looked around the lake himself, searching for anything out of the ordinary. The area seemed pristine and calm, like it usually was, and there was no foreign noise that could have caused Arthur's alarm. Dyami cocked his head and turned back to Arthur.

"Are you sure? Everything seems fine to me," he whispered, lowering his chin to graze the surface of the lake.

Connor slowly began to walk out of the underbrush, the way he came. The ground was a bit bumpier than he remembered and vines and twigs were scattered along the pathway. _Brilliant_, he thought, _this land is trying to get me caught_. He really didn't want to cause Arthur any trouble; getting back to camp without interrupting seemed like the best option. Besides, with his hair, staying still in the green forest was bound to get him spotted as easy as a Frenchman. Just as he reached the clearing, a low – gradually getting louder – honk of trumpets echoed throughout the air.

It was definitely an Englishman's trumpet, usually used for announcements. Arthur raised his head in annoyance. "Oh, what now?" he mumbled. Dyami swam over to the Brit's side and put his arm around the others back.

"What... what is that?" he asked, turning to Arthur. "Is it your people's – " He stopped as a finger pressed to his lips. Confused brown eyes glanced up to meet an agitated green and Arthur quickly pecked Dyami's cheek.

"Listen, I have to go and find out what's going on, alright? Just go home for a bit and I'll return later," Arthur said. Dyami held his hand to his own cheek and nodded, still fueled with confusion. The Brit stumbled out of the water, and broke into a sprint as soon as his feet reached dry land, leaving Dyami sitting in the shallow water.

Kwahu flew off his comfortable spot on the branch and flew over, perching himself on top of the native's head. He squawked and nipped at Dyami's ahoge annoyingly, then staring at the path that Arthur took on his way out. "Don't ask me; I'm just left in the dark as much as you are," he replied to the bird. "Hey, do you mind doing a little snooping?" Kwahu cocked his head. Standing up, Dyami took the eagle and practically threw him in the air. "Just make sure Arthur makes it back to his people safely, alright?" he shouted to the bird, receiving a loud call in return. Rocking back on his heels, he cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled again, "_And no hunting! You're getting fat!_"

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	12. A Farewell to Love

***Jumps out of house, flies out of earth, is propelled into the sun* What's this? An update? A late, one-year anniversary update? That I literally just wrote an hour ago? Whooa  
>Yeah, sorry you guys for the delay! This month has been going by so fast!<br>This chapter was just pulled from oxygen and not error-checked, so sorry about that. Also it was kind of rushed in my opinion, but I needed to get this chapter done because I couldn't handle the feels.  
>Thanks to everyone who voted in my little poll and this chapter is basically the result. More at the bottom!<strong>

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><p>Connor made it to the camp just two minutes before Arthur made his entrance. The tents were being pulled down and crates of whatever food the crew gathered were being stored back on the ship. Arthur raised a brow at the commotion and stormed toward the man standing on top of the largest rock in the clearing shouting orders; right passed the Irishman who held his breath with sincere nervousness and fear.<p>

"Governor, what in the bloody name of my past are you doing?" Arthur interrupted, waving his hands in the air. "What is going on?"

The governor peered down at the nation with a scowl. "What does it look like we're doing, you dimwit. We're leaving this God-forsaken land," he said with such a monotone, uncaring voice that it made Arthur physically flinch.

Opening his mouth, Arthur couldn't find words to express his emotions. He could feel the other man's stare boring into his skull, possibly reading every single thought that floated into his mind. "W-why?" he finally asked, stupefied.

"There's no gold. This journey was a failure and a waste of time and money. I'm sure the king will be greatly _disappointed_." He dragged his voice longer than needed and it made Arthur's eye twitch.

"Well I am certain King James will understand," he replied bluntly. "Fine then; If you excuse me, I have things to pack." Arthur took a step back from the stone and finally broke eye-contact with the governor, turning and striding away with mixed emotions bubbling up inside him. His thoughts drifted to Dyami, whom he left alone at the lake. Guilt and regret instantly stimulated his mind and caused him to walk straight into Connor, who in turn was carrying the barrels of water.

"Ouf! S-sorry Captain! I wasn't paying attention," Connor said quickly, moving out of Arthur's way. The Brit stood still, glancing at the other with a curious gaze that practically went straight through him. It took a moment before Arthur realized he didn't even say anything back.

"Quite alright... I was also daydreaming. Carry on," he said, crossing his hands behind his back and continuing to his soon-to-be-gone tent. Connor made a mental note on how the Captain was different here and... _there._

Dyami walked back and forth in the hut, hands running through his hair as he paced in front of Ahmik. The brother watched as the distressed man almost tripped over his own feet, or maybe over Ghobi.

"Dyami, calm yourself. I am sure Arthur is fine; you are overreacting," he said, trying to reassure the other. Dyami paused his pacing and glanced over his shoulder with a frown.

"That's the eighth time you've said that," Dyami replied, cracking his fingers subconsciously.

"And the eighth time that I am telling the truth and you seriously need to calm down."

"I am totally calm!"

"And I am the god of moose!" Ahmik exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. Dyami sighed and sat down on the fur blanket, defeated. The two brothers were quiet before the elder snickered. "What?" Ahmik asked quietly.

Dyami looked up with a smile. "The god of moose? Are you for real?"

Ahmik's face grew into a large grin. "Of course! I am lord of the beavers, king of geese, and god of all moose! Beware my power!" he shouted as he rolled over to Ghobi – picking him up and spinning the small animal in the air. Dyami chuckled and kicked his brother softly in the shoulder.

They spent an hour or so just sitting in the hut, talking quietly about how they spent their afternoons. The sun was still fairly high in the sky when a short wind rustled the edges of the blankets. Kwahu stuck his head in the entrance, flicking it back and forth before stalking in, immediately going to peck Dyami's head.

"Hey boy, why are you back so..." Dyami's voice lowered as Arthur peeked into the hut. His face was downcast and his eyes didn't have their usual glow. "Arthur...?"

"May I speak with you; alone if you don't mind," the Brit asked, nodded apologetically to Ahmik, who shrugged and continued to pet the beaver. Dyami frowned and rose from his spot on the warm ground, following him out of the door.

They walked out of the tribal camp and closer to the ocean, where they stopped at a short cliff that overlooked the horizon. Arthur stood for a moment, as if mesmerized by the sight and let out a long, depressing sigh. Dyami rubbed his arm and looked at the ground, waiting patiently for the blond to say anything. This moment wouldn't come until three minutes later.

"Listen, Dyami, I am so sorry..." Arthur began, closing his eyes as he let that first sentence out in one long breath. Dyami's head perked up in confusion.

"What? Why are you sorry? Are you okay?" he asked, taking a step forward while scanning the European's face.

Arthur glanced back and forth from the ocean to the boy, coming up with words as he went. "I... I have to go... I'm leaving..."

"Leaving for where?"

"Home."

"Why so soon?" Dyami asked, though more in a pleading voice. "I felt like you just got here and all that has happened... Arthur, you can't g-go..." His voice broke as he felt his nose begin to sting and salty tears form in the corners of his eyes.

Arthur bit down hard on his lip as he watched his lover break down. He himself had a breakdown back in his tent before he came over; though he wasn't prepared for any of this. "Please, Dyami, please don't do that. I... I didn't know about this; I'm so sorry." Apologizing and honey-coated words weren't really helping any of them at this moment.

The native rubbed his hands across his face. "No, no... it's okay..." He sniffed. "I expected that you couldn't stay _forever_... I just wasn't expecting it to be so short..." Dyami finally looked back up to meet Arthur's gaze. "Will you ever come back?"

This was a question that Arthur was actually expecting, but he had yet to come up with a good answer for it. Taking a deep breath, the Englishman tilted his head and started, "There is a saying back where I come from – and I want you to remember it, okay? '_If you love something, let it go; and if it comes back, then it was meant to be_.'" He had heard the saying from some of his people before they left their families and lovers for war. It was sweet, and had a more powerful meaning then anyone ever thought about.

Dyami pressed his lips together and nodded. "O-okay...Okay. You can go," he whispered. "I am letting you go..." The tears had formed back in his eyes as a sob broke through his throat. Arthur quickly stepped forward and brought the taller into a tight hug, hiding his own face as tears slowly rolled down his cheeks.

The loud noise of the horn was carried through the wind as it echoed in the trees. Arthur slowly pulled away from the younger and caressed his face in his hands. "I have to go now, love," he said quietly. Dyami rested his hand on top of the Brit's and for a moment just stood still as the wind grew stronger. If Arthur's heart wasn't already ripped in half, this would just shred it.

"Be safe," Dyami whispered, kissing Arthur's hand softly. He held back a plea as Arthur mutely backed away in silence before disappearing in the forest. Seconds ticked passed as Dyami's mind tried to register what sequence of events just occurred; his knees gave out underneath him as he let out all the frustration that had built up inside him.

Nuna watched her son from a distance, clutching her hand to her heart, but not daring say a word. The European nation was right to leave; _it would return things to normal_, she thought.

Arthur carefully walked on the main deck of the ship from starboard to port, back and forth. He couldn't bring himself to look back at the land... not yet. The governor had the last of the crew pile the stock in the brig and prepare the ship for launch. Another handful of months ahead on the sea, Arthur could handle that, couldn't he? He leaned against the masts pole as he surveyed the deck; watching the men bustle around, throwing ropes and lines to each other.

"Connor," he said, without casting any glance to the Irishman as the man was walking by.

"Y-yes, sir?"

"I do not appreciate spying, do you understand?"

Connor swallowed the lump in his throat. "Y-yes, Captain. It was an accident, I'm sorry."

Tilting his head to face the young human, Arthur lowered his voice. "You do not speak of what you saw to anybody," he stated matter-of-factually. Connor's tan face paled as he nodded quickly and hurried off.

Arthur really didn't mean any cruelty to the boy, but the day had been getting worse and worse by the minute.

"We are setting off now."

Make that second.

Arthur turned his head to the governor. "Like I already couldn't tell. Thank you for the information," he scowled as the ship lurched forward with the great wind. Arthur couldn't help but grin when the man almost toppled over.

Dyami heard the ship as it left the shallow water. Then he remembered: there was something he wanted to give to Arthur. Swiftly standing up, he scanned the forest with thoughts raging in his mind. Without hesitating, he sprinted forward into the trees towards the camp, calling for Kwahu as he tore through the bushes. The eagle flew towards him, clutching his bow, an arrow, and a small headband that held so many memories. Grabbing the items as they both made their way back to the ocean side, Dyami wrapped the headband around the arrow so that it connected securely.

There was a long, protruding cliff that overlooked the bay that could possibly be high enough, Dyami thought in his head. When he made it to the cliff-edge, he gasped as he saw the white masses of the great ship gradually begin to get smaller.

"Kwahu," he said, placing the arrow on the bow and pulling it and the string back. "I want you to guide this to him." The eagle took off in the sky as Dyami launched the arrow high into the air, catching the strong wind that blew out towards the sea.

He couldn't decide if he should go below deck or just deal with the hurt above. It had been a dozen minutes since they cast off and he still hadn't looked back.

"Hey, look at the bird! Bloody hell that thing is huge," a man, probably from Manchester – Arthur noted, shouted. The nation raised an eyebrow and looked into the sky, just as a thin, pointy object decided to propel from out of the blue and pin itself to the pole roughly about twelve centimeters from his head.

Taking a step back, he noticed the light blue, beaded headband wrapped around the arrow. Arthur's heart wrenched; it was the headband from the ceremony night, right before Ahmik decided to marry Dyami and himself. After grabbing the headpiece from the arrow, tears beading in his eyes, he finally looked back at the land that was slowly disappearing.

He could just make out the outline of a person who gradually went out of sight.

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><p><strong>Sob sob sob<br>Sometimes I get so whelmed that I need to end a chapter quickly because I cANNOT. You feel me?  
>Don't fret! Arthur will come back to the New World in the future! Judging by how long my next chapters are, I think there will be 3 or 4 more chapters and an Epilogue. It's so sad that this is all coming to an end!<strong>


	13. There's a Storm Coming

**We're doing the dreadful time skips for the following two chapters because you don't need to really know when Arthur took a bathroom break or slapped a sailor for being sassier than he is.  
>Rather short... really shorter than what I was planning, but I thought... why not just update when I can and prolong the sad ending that is awaiting us in a few more chapters...<br>So Arthur is back home... I wonder what Dyami's doing...**

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><p><em>Two Months Later...<em>

The captain had barely left his cabin throughout the entire voyage. He would walk around deck, perhaps grab a snack, and proceed back downstairs to lock himself up again. Within the weeks that the ship took to sail back to his cherished island, Arthur managed to draft up sixteen letters, twelve speeches, four novelettes, and fill up his entire journal. He then tossed them all out the window as they were written.

Sitting at his desk, staring at the mapped Earth on the wall, he pondered on what he would tell his king. No gold had been found; that would surely disappoint him. This trip was expensive, but everyone was so determined that they would find treasures in the New World after Spain found the mother-load. Sure they found treasures... at least Arthur did. He eyed the chest at the end of his bed and sighed.

"Land, ho!"

Of course Arthur was in no rush to move from his wooden chair. He knew they were in British waters the second they entered them. Not that he was procrastinating from having to explain to his boss why they did not bring back anything of good value, besides some new food and animals, but he just really did not want to get up from the chair. Maybe his legs finally gave out after all those years.

A familiar knock on the door caused the nation to snap out of his daydreams. "Captain, we arrived at the port... Captain? A-arthur, are you in there?"

Arthur twirled his quill and set it in the ink bottle. "Yes, Connor, I'm in here. Where else would I be?" he called over his shoulder. The shadow casting underneath the doorway rocked back and forth, like the Irishman was contemplating or embarrassed.

"Sir, if you need anything, please don't hesitate to write me. I will be returning to my family for the time being and although it's a long trip, I won't be bothered if you..." Connor trailed off.

Pinching his upper lip with his thumb and index finger, Arthur chuckled quietly. "Yes, Connor, thank you for your service... I shall send a courier if your skills are needed in the future; Good day," he replied, finally pushing himself off the chair and lightly stepped to his bed. It would take the crew precisely two hours and fifty-two minutes to dock the ship, empty her of the cargo, and lower her masts. And that was two hours and fifty-two minutes of being left alone. Arthur laid back on the pillow and shut his eyes, sliding his hands behind his neck and interlocking his fingers.

_Two Hours and Fifty-Two Minutes of Alone Later..._

Arthur was pretty amazed he calculated the time it took for the crew to finish up. Dragging the chest and papers with him, he wandered up the stairs, sighing as he saw the sun sinking over the horizon. A frail man sauntered up the ship's ladder, offering to take his possessions to load them on the carriage that stood waiting on the dirt road. The horses, one white, and two brown, stood patiently while the man opened the door for the Englishman. Arthur stepped inside and sat facing forward. The air was growing musty as evening clouds started to gather together and turn dark.

_A stormy night... How shocking;_ Arthur rolled his eyes, picking at his sleeves. Suddenly the door opened again, and a grim aura filled the carriage. The governor sat down, causing the weight to shift unevenly to the other side, and glanced up at the blond. Arthur crossed his legs and looked out the window.

_This ride just got three hours too long,_ he thought as he felt the man's eyes burn into the side of his head. As the horses began trotting and the scenery began to change, a light drizzle of rain began to fall from the sky. Reluctantly, Arthur was forced to shutting the shades on the windows to prevent the inside of the carriage from getting damp. With that also went his distraction for not communicating with the governor, who had shifted his gaze to one of his many necklaces.

"His Majesty would be delighted to hear that the land is suitable for colonies," he said without batting an eye. Arthur rubbed at his knuckles, looking up at the man. "The Crown would make the savages civilized... and put to good use." His voice was coated in malice.

"The native people of those lands are as civilized as any of us –" Arthur argued back, clenching his jaw firmly.

The governor stared at him, cold-dead in the eye. "Yes, you would know that... wouldn't you," he scathed in an icy tone. Arthur glared back at him, but kept the warning signal in the back of his mind. "I am not daft, England. And I certainly don't forget a face," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a long, tanned feather. He twisted it in his hands for a moment as Arthur scrutinized his actions, then opened the window and threw it out. The nation dug his fingers into the folds of his trousers.

_Three hours much too long._

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><p><strong>Next will be Dyami's side... and maybe a cut off for Arthur again... Then another chapter after that... so... I'm estimating at least three more chapters... maybe more..<br>I keep winning giveaways, this must be my lucky month... Except for school... School is always bad.**


	14. News to be Given

**SIGH. I have a lot of updating to do this month before I go to Anime Boston at the end of May, so expect a lot of uploads before then. I'm so bad a estimating how many chapters left, but looking at this one, now it is probably... dodoodo... Two chapters and an epilogue... Grr.. Probably won't finish them until after AB... That's okay though I guess... Prolong the suffering. evil time skips.  
>That'll happen a lot. Not meaning to rush, but I've been dying to rewrite my original story that I started in Eighth grade but stopped when I started this and now I changed so much of the plot. SIGH.<br>Anyway, enjoy the chapter! I actually started writing Dyami's part when I was PMSing and for some reason really sad. I was also listening to Patriotic songs, which you can tell when you read the scenery paragraphs. I'm so American. ALSO POO TO HISTORICAL ACCURACY. I GAVE UP ON THAT MONTHS AGO. It's too complicated to make everything accurate, I'm sorry. I did some research though! **

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><p><em>Two Months Ago: North America<em>

The shadows stretched all across the meadow now, and the air was cooling. Miles of golden wheat blew gently towards the direction of the sea, sending stray seeds and loose grain further into the trees. Far in the distance, a thin line of smoke rose above the treeline; the tribal camp was probably preparing dinner. Not that Dyami cared at this point. He continued to aimlessly pull out overgrown weeds and toss them into the wind. It took hours to walk – linger – up the hills and find the spot that was secluded and quiet. The sun reflected off the wheat and sent rays of gold dust to float carelessly in the air. Dyami leaned back and disappeared into the waves of grain, staring up at the sky. He sighed for the hundredth time that hour and rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands.

The sky grew darker until the stars began to appear one by one, twinkling and shooting across the sky, like they were on a journey to find their true place amongst one another. Dyami was sprawled out on the ground, surrounded by a wall of still wheat, humming quietly while he stared at nothing. Crickets, bats, and other creatures of the night seemed to stay silent as the solemn atmosphere showed no signs of departure.

With the exception of one.

"Dyami-Yuma!" a loud voice called. "Dyami, I swear to the Spirit, if you don't come back right now, I will beat your backside with a stick!" It was a familiar voice.

Dyami blinked, snapping back to reality. Sitting up, he ran a hand through his hair to shake off the settled dust. Fireflies roamed the area, like little balls of flying fire.

He heard the crunch of wheat from the left and glanced up to see the outline of Ahmik. He was breathing heavily, like he was running around for hours without stopping. Dyami lowered his gaze and pulled his knees in, settling his chin on top. The younger brother tiredly fell next to him and caught his breath; they sat quietly for a while before Ahmik cleared his throat; his nose stung as he searched for words.

"I... I know how much he means to you. And how hard it must be for him to leave you. Remember last time I went up north with Father and you and I were a sobbing mess? Well, that was a tough time for both of us, but look! I came back! I know he'll come back, Dyami. Arthur loves you. You love him," Ahmik paused, taking Dyami's hand. "And I love you both; I hate seeing you so down." He wiped a falling tear from his cheek. "Please, Dyami. You can't just brood all day and not come home. We need you. Stop hiding from us and let us comfort one another! I miss Arthur too... Dyami, I... I never have seen you more happy then when you're with him. I can never give you his happiness, but I wish you can let me try and... make up for it..."

Dyami bit down on his quivering lip; gripping Ahmik's hand tightly. Pressing his forehead to his knees, he whimpered out a series of sobs. Ahmik leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his brother, letting the other release any strained emotion as he silently released his own. The day was finally gone and tomorrow had arrived; the two brothers held each other in the darkness of the night.

_Present Time: London, England_

Needless to say, when the carriage finally arrived at the Palace of Whitehall, Arthur flung himself out of the cart and onto the ground. He could finally move without the governor breathing down his neck. Collecting his luggage from the servant, he nodded to the driver and turned his back before the eyes of the human-from-hell peeked out from behind the curtain. Arthur escorted himself inside the palace and immediately went to his quarters, swiftly avoiding any other servants or monarchs. As he sped down the grandiose hallway, he also noted that his doorway was kept clean and polished during the time of his absence.

He felt the gust of wind from the balcony as he opened the doors. Setting his bags down by his desk, he walked over and locked the windowed doors shut. The room kept its same smell and his papers were never touched – or if they were, they were delicately placed back where they laid. All in all, it was like he never left. Falling onto the large bed that wasn't slept on in months, Arthur stuck his face into a pillow and screamed. Not a blood-curling murder scream, but a scream that was satisfactory enough to calm the nerves; if there was one.

A knock came from the hallway, it was light and quiet. Most likely a servant, Arthur concluded.

"Sir, His Majesty awaits you in the library."

He lifted his head off the pillow. "Very well, thank you," he replied back. Taking a deep breath, he lifted himself up and walked to the dressing room that was attached to his own. Although he didn't mind greeting his boss in his sailing-wear, surely others would mind. Grabbing a linen shirt, pantaloons, and breeches, he successfully managed to button it all without assistance. He slid on his most favourite boots and clipped a hip-length cape around him that he artistically flung over his left shoulder. Most men in the era wore their hair long or with a wig, but Arthur found it irritating and the last time he tried to grow his hair out, France made fun of him by mistaking him for a fuzzy, yellow caterpillar.

Unconsciously, he smoothed out his hair as he walked out of the room and down the hall toward the library, his cape floating gently behind him. A few servants stopped as he walked by and bowed their heads – sworn under secrecy, they were the only servants in the Kingdom who knew of His Personification.

The blond pushed the doors to the library open with one hand, letting the guards close it behind him. The King stood in the center of the walls of books and maps, overlooking documents and letters at a desk. The fireplace was lit and crackling in the corner. Arthur silently walked forward and lowered his head.

"Good evening, James," he said, "You called for me?"

King James looked up from his work and smiled, the corners of his mustache curled up and he kept the grin. "And a good evening to you, England. How do you fair?" he asked, walking him and the nation toward the fireplace. He pulled his long cape to the side and sat down on the elongated seat, crossing his legs over one another and ran a hand through his short beard. Arthur sat himself next to him and smiled.

"Well, thank you... well, now I am at least. It's... _nice_ to be home." It hurt slightly to use that word. The fireplace crackled loudly. "Where is Anne?"

"In Dunfermline Palace; she is pregnant."

"That's wonderful. Are you to see her?"

"I will ride up in days to come. She enjoys spending time away from me," he said, not seeming to care. Arthur raised a brow.

"Perhaps it's you, Sire, who enjoy time away from her. You do seem to prefer male company," he replied back smugly. James chuckled and nodded .

"Yes, well, I received word that you did not find gold in the New World lands you searched... That is quite alright, don't give me that look. I was thinking," he began, staring straight into green eyes. "About colonization."

Arthur blinked.

Arthur almost fell out of his chair.

"England?"

"Colonization? Of the New World? As in, taking over? Prancing over there with guns and people and building homes and societies?"

James pressed his lips together. "Yes, that is usually the case... Are you alright, my friend?" he asked as the nation was nibbling on his nails. "Some people have already expressed their motives in moving... some have already left," he mumbled.

Arthur stood up, eyes on the fire. "I'll be in my quarters for a while. I have paperwork to send out to other before the next World Meeting... Prussia is supposedly holding it and we all know how that is suppose to go," he said, adjusting his cape. With a quick nod to the king, the Brit strode out of the room, colonization in mind.

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	15. If You Love Something

**GAH. I sat down and worked on this for two days straight! It's past midnight right now and I really really wanted to type another chapter! So I present, A LONG ONE! It's more than five pages on my computer. Phew!  
>Sadly, our time together is short... Thanks for everyone who stuck by me for this long! One more chapter and then an epilogue and then <strong>**_In The Beginning_**** will come to an end. Since I leave for Maine in roughly two weeks, I want to get them all in before hand!  
>I was going through my other chapters and noticed so many typos that I cried... Not really, but there were so many! Ahh! And I'm turning 16 in two days - I almost forgot. I think I just spent my early birthday alone in Barnes and Noble today, though... well... technically yesterday... Sigh.. Oh, time.<strong>

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><p><em>Ten Years Later; London, England<em>

Towns were quite lively in the afternoon, especially before a grand voyage of dozens of people. The port was windy – sails were being tacked up and the grand flag of Great Britain blew wildly to the west. As families stored their belongings in the cargo hold, they kissed each other lovingly and boarded the vessel. Arthur found himself in a longingly familiar environment – in the captain's quarters of that very same ship. He was staring at the modified map of the world after multiple explorations to the North and South American continents.

He sighed, turning away from the map and strutting toward his desk, grabbing his coat from the chair and hat, placing them on accordingly. The day was perfect for a launch of ships, and perfect for the beginning of his people's new lives. He was proud of their bravery since traveling by boat over oceans is very dangerous and rough.

Clicking open the lock of his door, he opened it and walked up the stairs to the deck. The crew was almost ready to cast off as last minute passengers ran on board. Chuckling, Arthur continued to walk to the stern of the ship, checking in with his first mate, who was bent over himself, adjusting his boots. The Brit raised a brow.

"Connor?" he exclaimed, tilting his head to the side. The Irishman looked up, just as surprised and sprang to his feet. His face was older, more mature, and was definitely more built.

"C-captain! I-I was aware that I was being a first-mate, but not yours, sir! It's an honour! A pleasure!" He still kept his same quirky attitude. Arthur smiled softly.

"Well," he said, "you certainly got older... the speed of growth baffles me."

Connor ran a hand through his mop of red hair and chuckled. "Ye', well my family certainly thought I should return to the crew; can't get rid of the sailor in a man... You look a bit older yourself, sir," he replied earnestly.

Arthur took the wheel of the ship and turned it slightly with his finger. "I doubt that," he said. Connor shook his head and continued to encourage that the nation looked older. "A _year_ older, you say? And how would I look only a_ year _older? You made it seem that you meant a significant amount!"

"A year is significant! Well, maybe not to you... Ugh, you make things so difficult!" Connor exasperated, waving his hands in the air. The ship lurched forward out of the docks, sending an unaware Connor backward into the wall of the stern. Arthur's sense of deja-vu made him laugh.

"Just like old times, aye?" he chuckled.

Connor quickly looked from Arthur's eyes to behind him, gulping quietly as he stood back up and brushed off the dust from his trousers.

"Yes, just like old times indeed, England."

The deeper voice send a shock through the Brit's mind. He unconsciously tensed his shoulders and turned around to glare into dull, lifeless hazel eyes.

"Governor," he spitted. "Shouldn't you be pushing daisies by now? What are you now? Hitting the fifties? Ancient, I would say. Impressive, even." Arthur was slightly pushing his luck as the governor smiled. It was unsettling.

"And miss a grand voyage with you to the New World? Oh,_ never_. I have some business to attend to, of sorts," he spitted right back.

The two men hoped to burn a hole through the others head with their stares before Connor stepped into the middle. "Gentlemen," he said calmly. "What would you like in your tea?" The hope to calm things down was diminished when the nation turned away, walking down the stairs to the lower deck. The governor's eyes never swayed from their spot where Arthur once stood. He rested his hand on his sword and quickly looked to Connor.

"Give me everything," he said. "And some rum as well." He stamped off and disappeared into his room.

"Bloody hell," Connor mumbled when he was left alone. Someone tapped on his leg; it was a young boy, probably around ten or eleven years old. "You should be with your family, laddie," he said, kneeling down to his height.

"'S'cuse me, but m' fam'ly is hungry. When's supper?" he asked. Connor sighed and patted his head.

"Let's go ask the cook, aye?"

The crows nest was evacuated when Arthur angrily climbed up there. Land had ceased to be seen even from this height and the gulls had left as well. The line of crystal white that outlined the earth from the sky was growing brighter as the sun began to set in front of them, to the west. Watching the ocean couldn't even calm him at the moment – no one had informed him of the certain passengers his ship was holding – it was infuriating. Leaning back against the pole, Arthur took his hat off and set it on his lap, letting one of his legs dangle off in between the bars of the surrounding nest. How long could he last to entertain a wanker with a stick up his own arse?

"May the Lord smite me now or I might just do it myself," he murmured, grabbing his hair with both hands. He could hear the crew over the wind working below him and sighed. At least he could distract himself with them; he was the captain after all.

Ten years... well... technically more than that, but a decade away from a land visited that long ago... but was a decade a long time? Perhaps to some, it's ten years of aging and ten years less of their lives to live after all. Arthur never really thought about time and what it does to people, for he hadn't really had a need to; he looked the same way for hundreds of years. Both Connor and the governor had aged significantly and the nation knew their lives had to end soon. Humans only lasted for so long.

A decade ago, at the world meeting, they had discussed the colonization of the New World. Though none of it was officially declared, France and Spain had claimed parts of land to add to their territory. To remain a lead-power, he as England had to claim some as well. Their people had already begun moving in mass amounts – even the ship he was on right now had dozens of colonists moving.

Then, before Arthur could think of another thing, there was a thud from underneath him. "Ouch," the voice cried. Arthur scooted over and opened the hatch. A young man with long, brown hair pulled into a ponytail clung to the rope ladder while rubbing his head. "Terribly sorry to intrude," he said, "but your meal is awaiting you in your quarters."

Arthur looked back out at the sky, which had considerably darkened. "Oh, right. My fault," he replied, moving over to let the man up into the nest. "I take it you're the navigator, Sir..."

"Henry, Captain. My name is Henry; and yes, my brother, John, and I work the nest." He was humble to say the least. Arthur nodded and proceeded to the hatch that lead back down to the deck.

"Yes, well... thank you, Henry," he said and slid down the ropes.

_Three Agonizing Months Later..._

Bed, desk, wall, door. Bed, desk, wall, door.

Arthur paced around the room, wearing only his trousers. The heat was devastatingly hot, unlike the previous years, and the room was hitting the point of melting anything inside. Arthur fanned himself with fans he folded out of contracts and dunked his head into a bowl of water every other minute. He refused to stand still and let the wind generated from his fast pace disappear, even though walking around would indefinitely make him warmer. Eventually his fan would fall to pieces and he would have to make a new one. He also did not want to leave the room because every time he did, the governor would be stalking outside his doorway like a wild dog. Arthur smiled, imagining the man running around on all fours, barking maniacally.

Then he felt it. The familiar feeling of land.

Grabbing his coat and bursting through his door, he reached the front of the ship before Henry could even call out the sighting of land. Arthur gripped the railing with excitement as he saw the various houses and villages created next to the water, a proper dock for ships and cargo, and dozens of people with their belongings bustling around each other. The ship rocked as the tides pulled them closer and their speed decreased quickly as the crew put down the sails. They cruised into the dock and colonist sailors greeted them while running to throw ropes on board, tying them down and letting the ship float to a stop.

"How lovely it will be to walk on land again, isn't that right, England?"

Arthur's happy feeling was gone.

The blond shifted his weight and spun around slowly to face the elder man. The governor's face was solemn and showed no signs of being content. Taking a long breath through his nose, Arthur replied, "Yes, lovely indeed," and proceeded to walk around him to the ramp leading off the ship.

Some men shook hands with him as he walked onto the dock, others tipped their hats. The people here were slightly different from the people living in the Motherland; they were more... unfettered. Children were noticeably more rowdy and their parents allowed them to roam freely throughout the areas. Arthur smiled softly as he proceeded to walk into the center of the town. He was greeted by a short man who welcomed him into the townhouse.

"Welcome, Mr. Kirkland, we heard your ship was coming," he said. "I was asked to arrange housing for you and your crew... here is the layout of the town and its contents..." He continued to babble on and on; Arthur looked out the window, staring at the woods that stood outside the town's boarders. "You will be staying here..." The forests had been cut down significantly and he wondered about – "The natives usually bring some crops that they harvest further west around the evening hours, though our crops are doing quite well this season. Over here, we have the blacksmith..."

Arthur stood up. "What was that you said?"

"Our crops are doing well...?" he said, raising a brow.

"No the other thing, before that."

"About the natives?"

"They're still here?"

"Yes, they were here when we arrived. Their chief stopped us from fighting and offered a peace treaty, so as their part of the bargain, they bring our people food and show them how to farm the land," the man replied, still slightly confused.

The Brit left his mouth slightly agape. "They're still here..." he whispered to himself. He glanced up at the clock that was hanging on the wall across the room. The hour hand was over the three. Closing his mouth, Arthur nodded. "Do you mind telling me where I will be staying again?" he asked. The man stared back at him and nodded, pointing to the map.

The rush of commotion, especially from the children, brought the Englishman out from his temporary house to investigate. Looking around, he saw some of the villagers moving towards the forest, holding what looked like beaded jewelry. Arthur followed behind the crowd of people, peeking over their heads. In the distance, you could see the figures of approaching people in between the trees. The natives carried woven baskets of fruit, meats, and vegetables; looking over their faces, Arthur did not recognize a single one. He was beginning to lose his excitement.

The colonists and the natives met, forming in a straight line to trade their belongings. Some people took the goods and immediately left, while others stayed and made small talk with each other.

"I hope your son feels better, Mrs. Delrino. These should help lower his fever."

Arthur's shoulders tensed. It really had been too long.

He turned to his left and bit down on his lip. There he was. With his dark hair and the strand that stood up; the dimples and the kind eyes; broad shoulders and copper skin. "Dyami..." he breathed out. The said man glanced up and locked eyes with the green-eyed Brit. They stood there for minutes, just silently staring at each other. Dyami's smile grew into a grin and his chest rose with spirit – he ran directly through the crowd and collided with Arthur like a wolf on prey.

"Arthur!" he cried out, holding the nation close, gripping him to his heart and not letting him go. "Great Spirit, Arthur! You came back! You came back!" Dyami kissed Arthur's forehead between every word, his voice breaking as tears rolled down his face. "I've been waiting... I thought you weren't going to come..."

Arthur hadn't blinked the entire time. Dyami looked the same. Ten years had passed and the boy hadn't aged a year. "D-dyami," he croaked, moving his arms up to hug his neck. He noted the different feathered headdress and the new attire.

They stood there in the crowd until it dispersed and they were alone. Gently pushing himself out of the native's hold, Arthur looked up at him. Dyami's smile faltered as Arthur continued to stare at him with a confused look. "Are you... alright?" he asked, brushing the blond's hair out of his face. Arthur opened his mouth and said nothing, still processing what he was thinking in his mind – but he kept countering it with other thoughts that it was impossible... But maybe it was...

"What you're thinking is incorrect, England," a female voice arose from the forest. It was the woman that Arthur had seen creeping around him and Dyami whenever they were at the tribal camp so long ago – Dyami's mother.

Dyami glanced up, "Mother...?" She raised her hand to silence him and continued to stare at the European nation.

"Because what you're thinking of is me," she stated. She walked straight up to him and stared directly into his eyes, only inches away. Arthur had to step back from the immensity of her presence.

"But... You couldn't be... I would have felt you..." he said, then turned to Dyami. "You never told me that she was this land's nation... and you're...?"

Dyami glanced back and forth between the two nations and whistled lowly. "Well this is awkward now, isn't it?" he asked, rubbing the ends of his headdress with his thumbs. "Arthur, this is my mother, Nuna, the personification of – "

"Well there's no use in telling me _now_!" Arthur exclaimed, then quickly lowered his voice. He pinched his nose. "I did have my suspicions..." he mumbled, turning back to Nuna. "So what now? Are we going to fight?"

Dyami tensed up and touched his shoulder, his expression was hurt. "Guys, please stop. Mother, Arthur just got back – I don't care if he's like you, I love him and you two aren't going to rip each other limb from limb while I'm still around," he shouted at them.

Nuna took a deep breath and stepped back. "I... I'm sorry... But ever since these... these _monsters_," she spat, "came here, they just cause death and I- I hate them!" She spun around on her feet and sprinted back into the forest, long black hair streaming behind her.

Arthur clenched his jaw. It had been a while since someone yelled at him like that. "What... just happened?" he asked, glancing at the native-American.

Dyami's frowned deepened. "She's still tense since Hiamovi passed away," he said sadly.

"He _died_?" Arthur repeated, shocked. "What? How? Is everyone alright?"

The brunette gripped the nation's shoulders. "Arthur, breathe. He got sick. It was a few years ago, it's fine. He's with the Earth now." Arthur nodded and mentally slapped himself.

"Well that was embarrassing," he said, collecting his posture and leaning forward to hug the boy tightly. "And I missed you too, love."

They sat on the cliff overlooking the bay. The sun had fully set, leaving the sky to its moon and billions of stars. The lights from the villages were dimming and the noise was replaced with crickets and owls. Arthur sighed and leaned back into Dyami's chest as their feet dangled off the rocks. The temperature had cooled significantly, producing goose-bumps on the Brit's arms. Dyami wrapped his shawl around them both and rested his chin on top of the blond's hair.

"This is where I last saw you," Arthur said quietly. "It was only an outline, but I knew it was you." Dyami closed his eyes and smiled. "I still have your arrow by the way... It's in my bedroom at home; I hung it on my wall... and the headband is in my hope-chest," he continued saying. Dyami remained quiet, but put his hands over Arthur's and gently rubbed them over with his thumbs. "I'm sorry if I don't understand your mother and Hiamovi's relationship... It's just that nations and humans aren't suppose to... well," he murmured, "you know."

They sat in silence once more for a while, watching the stars move. The native-American pressed his lips to Arthur's neck. "They met when Father was hunting," he said. "Mother saw that he was hurt and she cared for him for many days. They fell in love, regardless that Mother knew it was wrong." Dyami paused for a moment, nuzzling into the Brit's shoulder. "Ahmik and I came together, like a miracle. It was never suppose to happen. We never grew and aged like the other children in the tribe, but we're still as _fragile_ as any other human being," he whispered, as though this was a great secret.

Arthur squeezed his hands. "Fragile just means precious, love. And you're precious to me."

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	16. Let It Go

***THROWS SELF OFF EARTH* I am a horrible person but here is the official last chapter... I choked this out the past two days as I am heading up to Maine... in 8 hours... I suppose I should warn you for major character death if you didn't see it coming... I'll write other A/N's down below...**

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><p>It would be any normal day with downcast weather and extremely high waves if Ahmik didn't happen to walk by two naked men sleeping on each other under a tree. The brunet he recognized through the leaves and grass – the other was...<p>

Ahmik's mouth dropped.

"Arthur!" he cried, running forward, falling into the couple.

The Brit coughed as the native's elbow nailed him straight in the groin; he leaned forward and groaned. "Ooow, Ahmik," he mumbled. Said-man lifted his arm with an apologetic grin.

"Sorry," he said as he poked Dyami to wake him up. "I'm so glad you're back! The big loaf wouldn't stop talking about you and we were all so upset that you left so abruptly!"

Dyami uncomfortably reached over to their clothes and slapped his brother in the face with them. "Ahmik, this is going to sound really awkward, but seeing as you're laying on top of us while we're completely nude, I assume it's okay to ask you to get your hand off my thigh and go jump off a cliff so we can change."

Arthur glanced up and chuckled. Dyami's hair was messed up and poking in several different directions and his face clearly showed he wasn't even fully awake. The other sighed and rolled off, standing up with a smile.

"Fine," he replied. "But one question."

Dyami sighed. "Go for it," he said.

"Who topped?"

Curiosity gave him a rock to the shin.

~.~.~.

Back at the small town that bordered the sea, the governor stood firmly outside the house that his nation was assigned to. It was empty of course; that was to be expected. England was never truly around when he was suppose to be. He would disobey orders and ignore the blatant rule that the nation himself told the governor that all countries were suppose to follow. He had heard the example with France and his relationship with Joan of Arc – and everyone knew how that turned out.

Clicking his heels together on the dirt road, the elderly man strode a few houses down to the place that housed most of the crew. Knocking loudly on the door, he was not surprised when the Irish first-mate answered.

"S-sir... what are you doing up so early?" he asked, running a hand through his extremely curled hair.

"Grab a gun and follow me," the governor replied in a monotone voice. He turned away and walked slowly, continuing down the road. The redhead watched for a moment in pure confusion before packing his musket and trailing far behind the man.

~.~.~.

The three men, now fully clad in clothes, sat blissfully in the center of the heath that was surrounded by the forest. They tossed fruit to each other as Arthur continued to talk about what he did back in his own country.

"Those _horses _you mentioned... you can ride them?" Dyami asked, smiling.

"Of course! They are incredibly fast and strong; we use them to carry wagons and carriages as well as in battle," mused Arthur as the two natives were astonished at little things.

"I want to ride one," Dyami said with a larger grin. "That would be awesome."

"I want to knock you off one," added Ahmik, taking a bite from his fourth Mayapple. Dyami grabbed it from his hand and hummed it into the trees. Arthur chuckled as the longer-haired native stared at his empty hands. "I was eating that," he stated.

"You're going to get poisoned if you continue eating them."

"You would like that wouldn't you?"

"Right now I would not mind."

"Then why did you throw it?"

Dyami paused and stuck out his tongue before turning away.

Arthur smiled and threw a plum to Ahmik; he accepted it rather over-dramatically and made sure to chew loudly in his brother's ear.

As the two wrestled it out on the long grass, the Englishman sat back and stared at the cloudy sky that always seemed so out of place in North America. It was warm though; and the wind blew inland, carrying the smell of salt and seaweed. The grasses were a bit dewy and Arthur was sure he had a wet stain on his bottom. He touched it. He did.

Curiosity hit him when he saw a truffle of red hair far away between the trees, then it diminished to wariness. Getting up from his spot, Arthur jogged quietly to the place where Connor stood waiting. The Irishman appeared concerned and slightly worried and the hairs on Arthur's neck began to stand.

"Connor? What are you doing here?" he asked, finally tearing his gaze from the two natives.

The man looked down between his feet and refused to meet the blond's eye. "I am afraid I have betrayed you, s-sir..." he said, voice low and melancholy. Arthur tensed his shoulders; the air around them grew cold.

"What do you mean by that... Connor! For bloody hell's sake, answer me!" he shouted, stepping closer. Connor could feel the tears burning their way out of his eyes as he reached in his pocket and pulled out what the governor had given him.

He handed it to Arthur. "F-for pulling you away from them," he whispered. The Englishman stared in horror at the feather that the governor had showed him so many years ago – Kwuahu's feather that was now dyed blood red.

"No..." he mouthed; before he had the chance to even turn around, a loud, thunder-cracking shot rang out through the woods – sending birds flying out of the area. An agonizing cry followed the shot and Arthur finally broke out of his trance, sprinting back up to the meadow. He saw Dyami crouched over, shoulders heaving up and down at a fast pace. "D-dyami?" Arthur whispered, touching his shoulder. The native shouted in his tongue and leaned down further to the ground. The European knelt down in shock as he saw Ahmik with a large, bloody, gaping bullet hole through his chest. His soft brown eyes stared straight through Arthur and into nothingness.

Dyami held the limp body closer and didn't blink. "He stepped in front of me," he said in a hushed voice. Tears were streaming down his face like raindrops and Ahmik's blood was staining his chest.

A crunch of leaves drew both their attention to the other side of the meadow. "Blast it, I missed," the man said carelessly. Arthur felt his temper finally explode as he balled up his fists and bit down on his lip so hard, he himself drew blood.

"You murderer," he breathed out.

"This is necessary to keep you following your own rules," the governor replied, continuing to reload the musket. Connor approached the group slowly, eyes darting from one party to the other.

Arthur let out a strange, sarcastic laugh that caused Dyami to glance up at him in alarm. "'_Necessary' _you say? I'll show you necessary." Storming up to the human, he began cursing widely. The governor moved the gun and pointed it straight at the remaining native's head; Arthur stopped abruptly and scowled.

"One more step and the savage's brains are on the grass," he warned, placing his finger on the trigger. Within two seconds, Connor had moved from the edge of the group to the center, hitting the musket from the bottom with his forearms and aiming the tip towards the sky. The bullet fired high into the air; the Irishman felt his arms and face burn as he fell backwards onto the grass. Arthur took the opportunity to grab the sword that was hanging loosely in its sheath around the governor's hips and knock the musket clear out of the insane man's hands.

"By disgracing your country, I will not be hesitant in ending your life – regardless of any fake respect you hold in Parliament," Arthur cited, pointing the blade at the elder's heart.

The governor chuckled. He shook his head and sucked in a audible breath. "England, you remember a few hundred years ago when you would make other nations watch the human they fell in love with burn or beheaded? Did you have any pity? Did you hold anything back? No!" he screamed, pulling a preloaded pistol from behind his coat; he locked his hazel eyes onto dark brown and pulled the trigger as the sword pierced his flesh.

Arthur drove the blade through –senses going wild as the scenes around him seemed to move in slow motion. As the governor's legs collapsed, he looked back at the red-faced nation with a look of achievement before nothing. Stepping back, leaving the sword where it was, Arthur looked over his shoulder.

Three meters away, Dyami was still kneeling where he was. His hand was clutching his gut while the other gripped the ground. "Arthur," he whispered as his supporting arm began to give out. Both Arthur and Connor ran forward to catch him.

The Brit's eyes burned and the tip of his nose began to sting. "Shush, Dyami, you're going to be okay, you hear me?" he said, turning the man over so that his back was on the soft grass. The bullet had gone straight through his lower torso. Arthur didn't know what to do but press his hands to the wound. Connor tried to speak, but nothing came out.

"A-arthur," the brunet whispered again. "You listen... to me, okay?" He paused to wince. "You're going to leave me – "

"No," Arthur interrupted. "No, I am not. That is nonsense." Pressing his lips together, he shook his head furiously. "It's not even that bad, it's not even that bad..." He lifted his hands to see them coated in shiny, red blood. "It's..." His voice was cracking as he placed his shaking hands back over the wound.

Dyami stared at him for a few moments as the pain began to either dull or just blend in with the rest of his emotions. He placed his hand on top of Arthur's and gently rubbed it with his thumb. "A lovely man once told me... that if you love something... you have to let it go..." The tears rolled down his cheeks easily – from pain, love, and fear. "I'll come back," he said quietly before he felt a sharp shock in his chest. Letting out a short yelp caused Arthur to break into sobs.

"S-stop that," he whispered, leaning down to touch his forehead to the younger man.

"Arthur, I'm... scared."

"I know, love. I am too..."

Connor pulled himself away from the couple and looked in the opposite direction.

Wrapping his arms around the shaking form, Arthur hunched over Dyami as he let his head lay on his lap. The native's breathing began to rapidly increase to short, shallow breaths; Dyami used his free hand to weakly and quickly find his brother's to interlock fingers. "I'll come back," he constantly repeated quietly with every breath. Arthur winced as he couldn't say anything back. "I'll come back."

And then it was silent.

The wind had stopped blowing and the ocean waves ceased crashing upon the shore. Arthur lifted his head and looked down at the sweat and blood covered boy that lay limp in his arms. His eyes were closed and lips delicately parted. Even in death he was beautiful. The Brit closed his eyes and kissed the still-warm forehead. The tear streaks on both of them stained their cheeks; Arthur placed the head gently down on the grass and backed away slowly.

Then he felt it all at once – screaming out every single emotion that boiled up inside him. Connor still looked the other way, covering his ears as listening to the agony caused himself to cry.

"You... you _killed_ them."

Arthur's head shot up. His throat went dry as he turned around to face the long haired, personification of the New World. Nostalgia hit him like a wave and he couldn't answer back; he just stood there in anguish and looked at the woman with so much empathy and regret.

She slowly walked up to her sons and fell to her knees, holding her hands over their interlocking fingers. The two Europeans waited as she silently kissed her kin and stood back up. Without another glance, she simply uttered: "Go."

Connor had to physically grab Arthur's hand to pull him away from the meadow.

~.~.~.

They were once more aboard the ship as it set course to Great Britain. Arthur sat quietly at his desk, unconsciously scribbling on his notebook with a quill. His mind was completely blank and void as he stared out the small window in his quarters. The sky was blue when all that happened should reflect on the world with dark clouds and rain... but it was as blue as it could be. The clouds were white and poofy and there was a lovely bird in the sky that flew just in the distance.

Arthur squinted. The bird flew down as close as it could to the rocking ship and the golden eyes met green as it squalled and flipped back up above the masts, freely roaming the sky. It warmed the Brit's heart.

"Kwahu," Arthur mumbled. "Thank you."

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><p><strong>I want to thank everyone for reading; I really appreciated the reviews and favorites! You're a wonderful audience for sticking around for so long and read my really awkward work that I usually write when I'm PMSing. Haha. If you're sad, then stop being sad! I may or may not add a little epilogue that hopefully will make you go "AWWASDGJHL" and will pretty much wrap up everything. So I won't hit that "Completed" button yet. <strong>

**This is only the beginning. **


	17. It Will Always Come Back

**At last, I can finally hit that "Complete" button. I'm literally writing this the night before Thanksgiving... in fact, Thanksgiving is in an hour... crap. I better hurry... Eh. It'll be done eventually... this epilogue is rather short.  
>It also includes some things that you might just recognize! ;D<br>Again, thank you so much for reading! This fic was just something for me to do instead of chores at first, but you guys certainly kept me going! Thanks! Now I'm rewriting my original novel that I started in Middle School. Maybe I'll get it published... hmm...  
>Have a Happy Thanksgiving everyone! <strong>

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><p>"Gah... blasted Netherlands..." the blond nation mumbled, wiping dirt off his chin. He sat underneath a tree, hidden from the scorching sun. "He could have just left us alone; it was only a small fight," he said to himself. He, Finland - along with Sweden and Germany - had built a small town along the coast of the New World. They started idly chatting about the Dutch nation before he actually showed up with only a hatchet and a temper. "Scared all the villagers, not to mention myself." Finland glanced around the meadow. "I hope that young boy is okay - ow!"<p>

Scooting away from the trunk of the tree, Finland looked up into the branches. "Auts! What was that?" he asked aloud. Another acorn was chucked out of the tree in his direction. "Lopeta! Lopeta! Stop!" Finland shouted, hiding his head in his lavender vest. There was a loud caw from the lowest branch as a third acorn was flung towards the nation. "Ow! Foolish bird," he said, crawling away from the tree. "Today is not my day."

Finland wandered through the thick grass, staring at the blue sky. He knew that there were other nations trying to claim the land for themselves - he was too, to be honest. Everyone wanted a piece of the New World at this point, but the strong empires would probably be the ones to truly fight for it.

The blond Fin reached the stream that twisted through the valleys. Just where he last saw them... there they were. The "_strongest empires on Earth_." Trying to catch fish with their bare hands as they argued.

"You look like a girl with that hair, frog."

"You resemble une caterpillar, Angleterre."

"Do not!"

"Faire trop!"

_Yeah, these are the two that will conquer the world_, Finland thought as he waded through the water. "Oi! Good afternoon!" he greeted politely.

France pulled his hands out of the water and wiped his long, blond hair behind his ear. "Oh, bonjour, Finland," he answered before raising a brow. "Mon Dieu, what happened to you?" he asked, gesturing to the Fin's bruised and battered face.

"Did you trip or something?" the British nation asked, climbing out of the stream barefoot.

Finland sighed. "No... Sweden and I built a villa a few miles north of here since we plan on starting a colony... but Netherlands came and, well," he paused, rubbing his lower back. "He kicked our butts, to tell the truth."

The Western European's drawled out a few "sorry's" and "that's too bad" and "this land is going to be mine anyways" before Finland continued on with a roll of his eyes.

"Have you guys seen a little boy around here? I keep finding him in the most odd of places. He doesn't seem to have a home."

England pulled his shoes out of his bag and slid them on while adjusting his coat. "Well, we see a lot of children around of course. They run around playing all the time - why would this boy be different?" he asked, kicking France's shoes into the stream.

"I've been seeing him since I arrived here three years ago. This boy hasn't aged a day," Finland replied seriously. France and England exchanged looks. "Do you think that he could be...?"

"Mon petite frere!" France cried happily, sliding England's bag into the water. "I knew big brother France would rise again!"

The Brit shoved him hard. "He's not _your_ 'little brother'!" Walking up the bank to where Finland stood, England placed a hand on his shoulder. "If you think he could be a potential new nation, we should probably split up to find him. You two go look in town, I'll search the meadows," he declared boastfully.

France scoffed and approached behind him. "Non, I will search the meadow. You go look in town, Angleterre. You might scare the boy with your ridiculous eyebrows."

"How about I go look in town and you two, I don't know, take one half each?" Finland suggested, pushing the agitated powers apart.

~.~.~

England kicked the pebbles at his feet. Finland had boldly stepped between the feud between himself and the frog, and convinced him to search the land along the stream. The Brit didn't even remember when they crossed paths in the first place and why they were fishing right next to each other. Running a hand through his messy blond hair, England sighed.

"A new nation... what a load of rubbish... there's no way that -"

He stopped.

In front of him was a bird. A large bird.

Its eyes were gold and its head was feathered white. England didn't move a muscle as he stared at the bald eagle that stood just a mere few meters away. The eagle cocked its head from side to side curiously and spread its wings once and flapped in the nation's direction, letting out a long, echoing call.

Taking a step back, England had an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. "No, that's impossible... It's been decades, you can't be..." He stumbled backward and shook his head. "I'm dreaming, you're not real... Dammit Kwahu! You're not real!" The nation gripped his hair and slammed his forehead against his knees. His chest began to hurt as memories of the past flicked into his mind. The eagle hopped closer to him until it was near enough to nip at the stray pieces of hair. "Please, Kwahu. I'm not that Arthur anymore..." England whispered quietly to the bird. "He... he's gone," the Brit choked out, his eyes watering.

There was a light tug on his coat from behind him. England lifted his face from his knees to find that the bald eagle had disappeared. Sucking in a breath, the nation turned around and stared into the face of the young boy. His cheeks were sun-kissed, and his eyes were wide and bluer than the sky itself. England covered his mouth as he noticed the golden hair that stuck out above his cowlick.

"Excuse me, sir," he said in a light voice, eyes brimming with tears. "Please don't cry, I'm here! You aren't alone anymore, okay? We can play together!"

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><p><strong>A WILD AMERICA APPEARED.<strong>

**This is so sad to write when you're listening to the Thor 2 soundtrack. So this is what comes out of just 60 minutes of writing with a few distractions. Apparently now I'm working today (it's Thanksgiving now) from noon to eight. So I'll be missing Thanksgiving dinner with my family D:**

**But I hope, even if you don't live in the United States, that you still enjoy and be thankful for this Thursday. Have a wonderful day and thank you thank you thank you!**


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